Of Stories and Legends
by SweetDeceit
Summary: Lydia is meeting her Thane, who is also the Dragonborn, will he be all she thought he would be? How will their relationship progress throughout their adventures? And will their pasts ruin their future together? Lydia/M Dragonborn. Summary sucks, first fanfic, please R&R! Rated M for language, violence, and sexual themes later on.
1. Guess Who's Coming to Dinner

**Alright! first Fanfic! Woo! Okay, so please be kind. I suck so bad at beginnings. But I swear Lydia will develop an actual personality as I go. But for right now she's just a little un-feeling robot. Anyway, I do not in any way, shape, or form own any of the characters besides my OC who you will meet shortly. All rights go to Bethesda! **

**Hail Talos! or whoever.**

**Of Stories and Legends**

It all started with a story. A story of a dragon, just outside of Whiterun. Off to the western watchtower. At first, I thought it was just a rumor. Then, Jarl Balgruuf deployed Irileth and some of his personal guards to the watchtower.

But one other accompanied Irileth that day, it was he who would slay the dragon and become Whiterun's hero. And it was he whose shout echoed through the city, to be answered by the Greybeards themselves.

And now, he was to be a Thane of Whiterun. My Thane to guide, defend, and oversee.

_Lucky me. _

I was told he would be arriving soon to meet me and formally receive his title. But 'soon' had passed hours ago. Balgruuf had dozed off to sleep on his throne and Irileth's blue skin was practically violet in anger. The Jarl's steward and wizard were seated at one of the long, grand dining tables and were well on their way to succumbing to the poison that they called mead. I could hear them clearly as they told dirty jokes and gossiped of the townsfolk.

_What a couple of fishwives. _

I was standing to the Jarl's left, listening to the sound of his snores echoing through the great hall. I look to one of the distant windows and see the storm has not yet stopped. The night was shattered nearly every minute or so by a brilliant streak of light, and the crash of the Divines smiting the evil from this world. Or so I was told as a child. As the lightning flashed, and the thunder roared, I thought of the dragonborn.

The Jarl had told me little about him, only that he was a Nord, and had a big ego. _Yep, because we have so __few__ of those in Skyrim. _But I couldn't help but wonder of his appearance.

Irileth had said once under her breath of him being a stupid, happy, oaf. Using what little imagination and information I have, I picture the great hero of Whiterun.

Tall, muscular, blonde, with shining blue eyes, walking with grace and authority up to the Jarl. Then, bending his knee, in his heavy armor made of well-crafted steel, his great sword's hilt peeking from behind his back. When the Jarl asks him to rise he would lift his head to show a prominent beard, and a face full of respect for Whiterun's leader. His voice would be deep and hoarse, he knew the way of the voice after all. He would have a grand horse, a great big warhorse like those portrayed in the stories of Imperial Generals.

The sound of the hall's doors being pushed open snapped me out of my vision. The doors hummed against the stone floor of the keep, the sound of the storm echoed through the hall, though it was too dark to see anything on the other side of the door.

The Jarl awakened from his harmonious slumber and Irileth glared at the door in a most uninviting way. A dark shape formed in the doorway, pushing both massive doors open further. _Strength; check. _The figure had a dark hood pulled over their face. From the distance, I couldn't be sure if the figure actually was the dragonborn, though the scowl on Irileth's face told me it was him. I looked at the height next. _Tall; check._

Irileth's spiteful monotone broke the silence in the hall then, "It's about damn time. I was about to tell the guards to be on the lookout for any idiots drowning in the rain." The shape turned back to the doors and shut them easily, denying the harsh storm access to the warm, cozy keep.

The figure turned back then and walked up the aisle, his walk was slow, teaming with confidence. When he got close enough, I could see he was soaking wet, but I could also make out his armor. Brown, mostly hide and cloth, a hood, lots of pockets. This were all signs for one guild in particular. The thieves guild. Then again, I could be mistaken. "Now, now Irileth," his voice was deep and rich, yet softer than she imagined, "Is that any way to welcome the hero of the hour? Besides, it's impossible to drown in the rain. It defies nature."

Irileth huffed, "Trust me, an idiot of your stature could surely find a way, and as for you being the 'hero of the hour' you missed that by about five hours." Irileth's voice overflowed with annoyance for this stranger. "And I'll remind you that you are not yet a Thane, and it's never too late to revoke your title. You'd do well to remember that, Markus." _Markus. Markus. His name was Markus. I had expected something like Borgnaan or Alvor. Something that swelled with Nord pride. _

"True, though you never mentioned punctuality as one of the job descriptors." Markus joked.

"Enough, you two." Jarl Balgruuf's voice boomed. "It's been a long enough wait, I would prefer to get this done with and retire for the evening." His voice was rough with need for proper sleep.

By now the hooded frame had nearly reached the center of the room, as he walked he pushed his hood back. As he did so, he revealed his true appearance for my appraisement. His hair was short and as black as the night sky, it clung to his head from the rain of the storm. His jaw was strong, and his chin was angled perfectly. His nose was perfectly portioned for the rest of his features. His eye color was easily seen, even from several feet away. They were a luminous green, like a flawless emerald.

But, something wasn't right. Most Nords had very blunt, strong faces. Sure, his was as strong as any, but it was more angled, more cut. He had no facial hair save for small sideburns on the sides of his face. That was also odd for a Nord. Beards were a mark of honor; the thicker, the better. Yet, he had none? Was he even a Nord?

By now, Markus had reached the beginning of the steps that ascended to the Jarl's throne. I couldn't help but notice his strange beauty. It seemed….foreign. Odd. Maybe even alien. "I am sorry, Jarl, but there were some…complications on the way back from High Hrothgar." His face lightened then, showing a white smile, "Did you know that trolls can be killed much, much faster by fire than swords?" He chuckled lightly, "Because I sure didn't," The Jarl sighed, I could sense Irileth's eyes rolling. "I must have spent damn near two hours hitting that thing and then rolling out of the way of its swings. Then a hunter happened along and shot it with five flaming arrows and…. Well, let's just say he'll be eating well tonight." His eyes turned to me then, he looked me up and down, gave a one sided grin, and turned back to the Jarl, "And well, Chipp hates storms. I had to cover her eyes with one of my shirts and guide her into town while petting her and talking to her. Otherwise she would've run off." I decided that Chipp must have been his warhorse….however flighty she was.

"You talk far too much for my liking, you are wasting everyone's time!" Irileth had lost her patience.

"Aye, son, we really do need to be moving along now. Let's begin." The Jarl rose from his throne and commenced with the ceremony. A ceremony to instate a Thane is not so different than a knighting ceremony, really. Though Markus needed a little instruction throughout the ceremony. _Hasn't he ever seen a knighting? _This man was strange.

At the end of it, she stepped forward, "Ah, yes, as a Thane of Whiterun you now can purchase property within the city. This is Lydia, she is to be your housecarl. I'm sure you're familiar with housecarl, and if you're not well, Lydia will explain." The Jarl announced his retirement for the night and left without supper, eager for more sleep.

Markus turned his eyes to me, and once again looked me up and down. "So…. what does a housecarl actually do?" His voice sincere in his lack of knowledge in this subject. Though everyone in Skyrim had heard of housecarls and their thanes….right?

I answered the best I could, using as little words as possible, not wanting to drag this meeting on. "Whatever my Thane asks of me." He looked away for a moment, his brow furrowed, yet his mouth smirking.

"So you basically follow me around and do what I say?" His voice was full of disbelief.

"In essence, yes."

"Huh, that sounds rather dull. Or it would be for any other housecarl." I had to question that.

"Any _other_ housecarl? I'm not sure what you mean."

"Well, you see, I'm not really a stay-at-home kind of Thane. No doubt by now they've told you I am the dragonborn, and being such I an destined to do something of great importance." His face was confident and his eyes full of dreams. Dreams of adventure and victory, no doubt.

"Ummm…. What is this thing of great importance?" I said, slightly mockingly.

"I'm not quite sure yet. But I'll let you know when I find that out. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to change before dinner. Feel free to start without me." With a slight nod to both Irileth and myself, he was off to a guest room to change.

Markus left to change into something less…..well soaking wet. Which left me, and Irileth sitting at the dining table in a most awkward fashion. I tried to make the most of it. "So _this_ is Whiterun's Thane? I expected someone more…." I trailed off, not knowing what to say. I had imagined the exact opposite of what walked through the door. The only thing that could have made him any more different was him actually being an Orc.

"Intelligent? Respectful? No, they never are." Irileth said in a dry intone. "I wish you luck with this one, I'm glad I'm not in your shoes." I looked down at the table, The food had been sitting there for hours, but it called to my empty stomach. "My Thane may be a flaming idiot, but at least he has the sense to listen take council when he needs it." Irileth looked over to the other table, where the steward and wizard had passed out. The steward had since fallen from his chair and was under the table. The wizard was slumped over the table, neither looked like they would wake soon. "Then again, I have these two trolls to look after as well." I chuckled at that, Irileth was constantly complaining about someone or something, but she could be funny when she wanted to.

"I'm sure I'll have enough wit for both me and Markus to stay alive," Irileth's head snapped back to me at the mention of Markus's name.

"Do not speak your Thane's name. It is a sign of disrespect. Surely you remember this?" Of course. How could I have forgotten so easily? A fool's mistake. I felt my cheeks turn warm in embarrassment, and I sat silently. Then Irileth continued, "And another thing, Lydia." Her face changed deadly serious. "Try not to get…too close to this one. I fear for your safety if you do. Try to stay as distant as possible. From him and his words." Her voice was full of caution, yet a protective tone shadowed it. Her red eyes bored into me, demanding an answer from my lips.

I opened my mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a masculine voice coming from the hallway. "My armor was easily ten pounds heavier with all that water," Markus walked in, wearing a white cambric shirt, which hung loosely on his tall frame. He rubbed a towel in his pitch black hair, leaving it pointing every direction. His pants were a dark brown, his boots were knee-high and were just a couple shades darker than his pants. I noticed a brown string hung around his tan neck, and a small lump hung on his chest, just under his shirt.

_An amulet maybe? If he's hiding it, it must be one for Talos. _

He laughed a rough laugh when he saw the Steward and the Wizard. "Which one drank the other one under the table first?" He asked.

**Alright! So not so bad right? Let me know what you think, if you liked it or if you have something you'd like me to improve on or write into the story! Comment and watch this story pllleeeasseeee! It'll get better! I promise! Thanks a ton, and Lax on!**


	2. Flames and Wickedness

**EDITED: okay, so after reading the reviews on ch.2 I went back over it and yikes...I can't believe I screwed up that much... But I guess that's what I get for writing it at three in the morning and only skimming it instead of a full out edit. Anyways, thank you guys for the reviews! I really appreciate hearing your input! I'm pretty sure I got all the major issues in this chapter, though next time I'll take an extra day or two to make sure I get the editing perfect! **

"Which one drank the other one under the table first?" He asked as he strode in, and took his seat. Irileth sat at the head of the table, I sat to her right, and Markus had taken the seat across from me to her left. "I'd put my gold on the steward outlasting magic-boy." The warm candlelight cast brilliant shadows across his face, accentuating his angled features. His tanned skin tone seemed to glow under the flame's gaze.

Now that he had finally made it to the dinning table, the servants began to buzz all around us; piling food on our plates, filling our tankards with mead, and playing songs with their instruments. During that time, Markus looked to be confused as to why people were rushing around him, throwing things on his plate. He looked down at his plate with a furrowed brow and a set jaw. "Something wrong, my thane…?" The last two words felt bitter in my mouth.

_Is this really who I'll be serving for the rest of my life? _

His head lifted, the confusion in his face melting away instantly. "Hmm? No, it's nothing." He then lifted his knife and fork and began to cut into the horker meat he had been staring at. Irileth put her tankard down from the swig she had just taken.

"Now, you mentioned earlier you made the trip to High Hrothgar? To the Greybeards," Irileth spoke as she herself began cutting apart the horker. "How was it? Do they live up to the legends?" Her voice was even, though I felt the curiosity beneath it. I was curious, too.

He swallowed a mouthful, took a drink, then spoke. "Well, their beards _are_ very long and grey, but I'm guessing that's not what you wanted to hear," another sip, "they taught me some new shouts, explained how to '_be_' the dragonborn, and not much else." Irileth's face froze in utter disbelief, I'd imagine mine was the same way.

"That's all? They didn't say anything about the dragons coming back, or how to stop them, or anything?!" For once, Irileth sounded panicked, however lightly it showed.

He paused for a second, staring off at nothing as if he were trying to remember what the Greybeards had said. "I think they honestly didn't know. They thought that the dragons coming back and me showing up were connected; but anyone could've guessed that,"

"So, that's it, then? The Greybeards teach you a couple of magic tricks, tell you to be a 'good little dovahkiin' and send you on your way?! No, no, they _must_ know _something_ about what's happening. Dragons don't just zap back from extinction," Irileth's venomous face commanded my silence. I looked over to Markus, whose face suddenly looked very tired and worn.

"Yeah, you'd think the guys that speak the 'dragon's language' would be able to ask one for some answers, huh?" I rolled my eyes; his constant joking was getting old quickly. He lifted one of his hands and rubbed his jaw line. "Listen, I don't know what's going on, I don't think anyone really has the answers about this sort of thing. I think we're just going to have to piece it together as we go," he looked down, stabbed another piece of horker onto his fork. I turned back to my food and began eating again. "and kill every fire breathing son-of-a-bitch we can along the way." He looked up and gave me a mischievous smirk.

After that, dinner was filled with pointless small talk. Mostly between Irileth and Markus. I was still marveling at Talos's sense of humor.

Once it was over I walk back to my room; my armored boots slapping against the cold stone floor being the only sound that could be heard through the tapestry strewn halls. I made the last turn and found the door to my room. Once I open my door I look at the plain but comfortable room I've called home for so long. I stride in and begin to remove my armor in pieces, starting with by breastplate.

_This arrogant ass is going to save Skyrim? Talos guide us, this is who we're counting on to save us? _***snap*** _Leaves us waiting there for __**hours**__, I hope he knows the dragons won't wait for him to show to begin burning a village to the ground. __*****_**click****_*_**

The pressure on my chest from the breastplate is instantly relieved, I lift it off my head and hang it on the armor stand which is next to the window of the room. I remove the gloves and boots easily, then tug off the pants. I stretch my muscles; grateful to have the heavy armor off my shoulders. I walk to the dresser and find the cotton night clothes I long for. As I am slipping them on, I watch the fireplace.

The flame emitted a brilliant yellow-orange glow throughout the room. Then I remember the look of the western watchtower after the dragon had been slain; the tower was in shambles, rubble strewn all around the last standing section of the tower. Fire was all around the grizzly scene, lifeless Whiterun guards littered the ground, most were beyond recognition.

I knew men stationed at that tower. They were good friends. Good men. Enrion, Darnius, and Ferlot had all perished in the battle.

The fireplace grew blurry, and my eyes stung with despair.

_Enrion's wife was still in shock, his children howled out in mourning when he didn't return from his shift, news had already spread through the town about the dragon at the watchtower. Darnius's parents had grown hateful and withdrawn when they heard the news. Ferlot didn't have anyone left to mourn his passing, the war had taken them all away from him. _

My arm flies up to my face to wipe away my sadness. I turn and walk to my bed, and pull back the heavy tan sheets. I crawl inside and cover myself, and shiver. The sheets are cold at first, but they warm after a few seconds.

_They're the reason this __**has**__ to work; I won't let their passing mean nothing. Markus __**must**__ succeed. I won't let him fail. If I have to throw his dead body at a dragon to kill it, I will. _

As I fluff my pillow I keep seeing his smirk in my mind.

This may be a game to him, but its not to me. Not to Skyrim.

I put my head down and clear my mind of all thoughts of dragons and death. But I can't shake that smirk from my eyes. That damn smirk that oozed confidence, paired with those brilliant emerald orbs.

I toss and turn in an attempt to escape his ghostly gaze. I clench my eyes closed and force him from my mind, and finally feel sleep's arms welcome me.

_The town ahead was small; no more than a farm and a couple houses, maybe a tavern too. I walk slowly, hearing the gravel crunch under my boots. Ahead I spot a young woman carrying a bucket of water to a small barn. People start buzzing around the streets, going in and out of houses, into the local trader, and carrying on with their day. The sun was bright and a small breeze blew in, crisp with morning air. I breathed deep; wanting to take in more of the sweet air as I edge closer to the town. I look at a little sign that reads "Welcome to Nyrondale" in cursive script. _

_I stop dead in my tracks. There was an unnatural shift in the air; something wasn't right. I turn to look behind me, nothing but a peaceful looking mountainside. I laugh at myself; "Keep it together, Lydia." I turn back to the little town._

_But it's not the same town anymore; it's a mangled mess of stone, fire, and corpses. The clear sky had morphed into darkness, with clouds circling above me. The fires raged in the town; smoke piling into the sky, flames reflecting shades of red onto the clouds. I look back to the town, and see the woman on the ground in the middle of the street; her light blue dress was charred from the nearby flames and her blonde hair was smothered with black soot._

_I run to her and drop down to my knees to turn her over. But as her head turns with her body, it's clear she's dead; a look of horror frozen on her delicate face. I look up, feeling the same breeze as before the town was in ruin._

_Then, a figure in the middle of the flames catches my eye. I squint; straining to see more. The figure moves closer, until it is out of the flames and then breaks the veil of smoke, letting its identity be known._

_"Markus! Where's the dragon?!" I look again to the skies, trying to find the beast again. _

_I hear his laugh, and turn back; my face boiling from the heat, and face twisted with anger and confusion. He had on heavy, black armor; it looked as if it was shrouded in shadow; though there was none present in the center of the fire._

Why is he laughing?! What's wrong with him?!

_His laughing subsided, "What dragon, Lyd?" He gave the same cocky smirk that he had done before at dinner. His emerald eyes were illuminated from the destruction of the town. "I don't see any dragon. Maybe they saw something," his voice was thick with venom. He lifted a pitch black gauntlet, and pointed behind me._

_I turned my head slowly, half not wanting to see what he was pointing at. Three large boxes were standing side by side in the middle of the street. Then it hits me; they weren't boxes. They were…_

Coffins….

_As if on cue, the hinges on the boxes creaked open. I knew which three would be inside even before they opened. _

Enrion. Darnius. Ferlot.

_All three of my former friends stared at me, eyes clouded over with death. Their skin pale, and powdered looking. They are all wearing the Whiterun uniform, but something was obviously wrong._

_All of them had been badly burned at the watchtower; in fact that's the reason they had all perished in the fight. But there were no burns to be seen._

_I turned back to Markus; his head was angled down, but his eyes were straight towards me. He had a wicked grin on his face, his teeth shinning. Then, he started laughing again. But, it wasn't his laugh; it was deep and bellowing. Yet, with every moment it grew louder, deeper, and more menacing._

_His face began to twist and contort, the smoke enveloped him, though I could spot his silhouette through the devilish fog. His shape grew and transformed, at first I couldn't tell what it was. Then, it spread its wings. With one flap from the powerful appendages, the smoke was cleared, revealing a huge dragon. It was as unnaturally black as Markus's armor had been. Then I looked into its eyes_.

_They were green. Emerald green._

Markus.

_The beast wasn't laughing as Markus had been, but rumbled deep inside its throat, sending puffs of smoke from its massive mouth, which was full of enlarged teeth. The beast looked past me, then I realized its intentions. As it opened its mouth, I screamed, "NO! NO! DON'T! MARKUS!" flames blew right over my head and engulfed the three coffins. _

_I watched as my friends disintegrated into ashes. My eyes were drowning in tears now, as the breeze from his wings spread the ashes through the sky. I turned to look at Markus, I swear if dragons could smile…..he would've been._

_The rumbling noise started again. I closed my eyes and waited for the end._

A force suddenly shakes me from the nightmare. "-iss Lydia! Miss Lydia!" I open my eyes to see an elven maid shaking me. "Oh thank the divines! You're finally awake! Quickly, you must get ready! We have word from a refugee, a dragon is attacking a town outside of Whiterun. Your Thane has left in advance for some supplies and to fetch some fresh horses for you both, I was told to wake you." Her voice was high and squeaky; a very unpleasant thing to wake up to. "Markus has instructed you to get ready and meet him by Whiterun's gate, then you'll both set off Southwest of here. Please hurry Miss Lydia." And with that, she was gone.

I rub my heavy eyes as I make my way to the armor stand. As I remove my sleeping clothes and replace them with armor, flashes of the nightmare creep into my mind. Markus's face haunts my mind. The way it had twisted into something so evil.

I shiver at the thought. I finish getting dressed and hurry to meet Markus by the gate. When I arrive, I find him standing by two white horses. He looks at me and laughs for a long minute. "Something _funny,_ Thane?" He wipes a tear away from his eye. I then realize that my hair was in a mess. I'd forgotten to comb it in my haste to meet him.

"Had a wild night then, eh?"

**Okay, so I had a comment on the first chapter asking if I was going to follow the main storyline or not. Unfortunately, I couldn't respond to it because they were signed in as a guest. So, I'll just make a note of it. I'm going to follow the main storyline as best I can, though it might be difficult since I haven't actually finished it yet, and probably won't get the chance with school starting up next week. But, I will also change some things in the world of Skyrim, and beg your indulgence to some details that are not the same in the game as they will be in this story. Also, I plan to make some detours from the main quest so that more depth can be added to the characters. **

**This may be the last update for a while, as I have to to all the summer packets that I've neglected for so long...ugh procratination.**


	3. On This Day

**A/N: Alright guys! I''m alive! Sorry for not updating in a while, had a little bit of an emergency, my poor little puppy got sick, and had to have an emergency surgery to remove a blockage in his intestine. Needless to say, I was a wreck. I was so worried I actually made myself sick. (Who knew that could actually happen?) Anyway, then after that I had to watch him all the time, to make sure he didn't do anything dumb. **

**Then I got caught up in watching PewDiePie's videos on youtube! He's so funny. **

**Alright so this chapter really didn't turn out how I thought it was going to, somehow it got too long to really finish the last scene, so that's going to run into the next one. I don't really like this chapter, mainly because I have to tie a lot of the little details together in the next chapter. So, a lot of the details might seem weird and dumb. But what can you do? **

**There might be a little/a lot of grammar errors, please just ignore them. I write usually late at night, and I seriously cannot stand editing. But, if my mistakes get bad enough, I promise to edit thoroughly. Anyways here you go:**

"Had a wild night then, eh?" He smiled, showing his teeth. He didn't wait for my response as he mounted one of the horses. I tried to smooth my hair the best I could with steel gloves on, though I doubt it did much good. I was about to mount when I heard his voice call to me, "C'mon, Lydia! There's a dragon just waiting to be slain!"

The nerve of this fool. Thinking he's so much more than what he actually is.

"I'm about to slay you in a minute…." I muttered under my breath as I mounted my horse and set off to catch him.

We'd been riding for hours, the sun had reached its peak long ago, the day had grown hot and muggy from last night's rain. We'd passed through hills, rivers, towns, fields, and about every other landscape Skyrim had to offer.

I'd begun to wonder whether or not there'd be anything left of the town by the time we got there. Or if we'd even make it there. Markus had only taken out his map once along the way, and losing your way in Skyrim was easy. But I was surprised by his concentration; I thought he'd be just as annoying and talkative as always was, but his mind was clearly set on his direction.

My armor was rubbing turning my skin sore from the constant motion, and was beginning to burn. We were ascending a hillside when Markus slowed his horse and dismounted.

I look around, trying to find the town or a trail to follow. But neither were to be found. "Where's the town? Why are we stopping?" I ask, genuinely confused. He was currently taking some items from his horse's saddle and placing them in his pockets.

"The path into the town is just 'round the corner, past this hill," he nodded his head to a steep and rocky hill, and began to tie his horse's reins to a nearby tree. "but I'd rather not lead the horses straight to a dragon, they'll just end up dead. So from here on we're going on foot."

"Are you sure we should just walk right in? What if the dragon is planning an ambush or something?" I ask, slightly annoyed by his head-on approach.

He scoffed at my questions, his face was slightly mocking. "Lydia, dragons don't lay traps. I would know. After all, I _am_ the dragonborn." His hands pointed towards his face, and he gave me a wide, cocky smile.

A fire began to burn in my throat.

"You've only fought **one** dragon, I think we should climb over the hill and look down at the town from there. That way we'll still be under the cover of the trees, and the dragon can't effectively attack us from there." He rolled his eyes, and turned to walk around the hill.

"Lydia, I'm the one with dragon-fighting experience here. They don't lay traps, they aren't smart enough for that," I dismount quickly, and tie off my horse.

_Or maybe you're not smart enough to take caution when you should. Moron. _

"besides," he turned then to face me, he had a crooked smile that showed his teeth and one eyebrow was perched high on his brow. "I'll protect you from the big bad dragon." I can feel my veins begin to boil under my skin.

I roll my eyes, well aware of the fact that his eyes were still on me. I respond by brushing by him, and moving along quickly, leaving him to follow. I hear a quiet chuckle from behind me, then his footsteps begin to echo my own. The only noises that can be heard between us are the sounds of my heavy armor shifting with movement, my shield slams against it with every stride, and his boots shift rocks and gravel loose from their resting places.

A breath of wind suddenly blows in our faces, carrying with it a thick, musty, smell.

_Smoke._

Flashes of my dream stream into my mind, clouding my vision. Markus picks up his pace, and is soon right next to me, he must've smelled the smoke too, because he nearly doubled his pace. As we rounded the corner, I thought we would have a clear view of the town, but there was only a path in sight.

The path led up a hill, which we could not see over, but the sky above it is clouded and grey, and the smell of smoke grows stronger and stronger with every step I take.

I know what's waiting for us atop the hill; a destroyed town, burned and bloody corpses, and a wicked dragon. I look over at Markus, his brow was pushed together slightly with caution, his jaw set firmly in suspense.

Yes, I know what I will see, because it's all coming back to me now; the hill is the same, the path is the same, and seemingly every tree is the same.

_But if everything is the same….then Markus is….No. No, no, no, no. Get a hold of yourself, Lydia. Markus isn't a dragon, and your friends are buried back in Whiterun. It was just a silly dream._

_Then again, if it was just a 'silly dream' then why is everything the same?_

I push all thoughts from my head, not wanting to hear the feud my mind was waging with itself. I strain my neck, and catch the first glimpse of a stone chimney, standing alone, without a house attached to it. A few more steps and the town, or rather what's left of the town, blooms into our sight.

One or two stone structures are still standing, but surrounding them are piles of burnt wood and crumbled stone chimneys. Bodies litter the ground, some charred, some with large gashes scattered on them, and one or two were even missing their torsos.

Then, a streak of color off in the street catches my eye. Light blue fabric, attached to a small form, laying in the exact middle of the town. Another flash of my dream blurs my vision. I see the woman's face, cold, dead, and staring.

For the most part, the fires had all gone out, only some isolated flames continued to burn and sizzle, throwing small amounts of smoke in the air. The only sound in the town is of our movements, we keep moving through the town. For a reason unseen, we just keep moving through.

We are only a couple feet from the young woman's body now. I stare at her as if my gaze will bring her back, somehow. But, after seeing no movement from her form, I look away towards the wreckage that surrounds us.

A half moan, half gurgle, snaps my attention back to the woman from my dream. I see her head turn over to face us. "No….leave…leave now…..before…" Her voice sounds pained, and gravelly.

I feel a rush of panic to reach the woman, and help her in any way I can. But as I take the first hurried steps towards her, a deathly familiar breeze sweeps my dark hair in front of my face. I stop, and Markus sprints ahead of me. He kneels down to the woman's side, and she reaches a charred hand out to his face. Her hair was dark with soot, just as it had been in my dream. Markus took her hand in his and talked to her, but I can't hear the words. I feel numb with fear.

I see a dark spot move from the peak of the mountain, not much higher than the town. I turn my head to look and see a figure gliding down onto our location. It's not hard to guess what it is. I open my mouth to call to Markus, or say something, anything.

But the words won't come to me. I watch as the dragon swoops down, Markus still hasn't realized its presence. He's trying to help the woman, but she's spotted the dragon in the sky, too, and becomes hysterical, screaming and yelling, but the words are incoherent. With every moment that passes the dragon draws closer.

Then, the silence is shattered by the dragon's hoarse call. Markus's head snaps up, and seeing the dragon approaching, he tries to help the woman up. The woman is screaming and crying, either from pain, or fear, or both. Markus tries to drape her arm over his shoulders, but she pulls back, and tries to push him away.

Another call ripples through the heavy air, reminding Markus of the impending danger. He looks over at me, stands up, and shakes his head in annoyance. The woman is still lying on the ground, and is as frantic as ever. But Markus begins running towards me, unsheathing his sword in the process. "C'mon Lyd, we gotta get to higher ground," He grabs my arm to turn me in the direction he is headed, but I snap my arm back, and he turns to face me with a confused and slightly angered face.

"And what about her?" I look back to the sobbing woman, "We can't just leave her out in the open, she's injured," His hand folds around my arm again, his fingers warm on my bare skin as he gently pulls me again.

"There's no time, she's dying anyway," His voice is cold and unconcerned, as if he were speaking of an animal, to be skinned and butchered. The small woman was on her side in the street, sobbing and moaning.

_Darnius….Ferlot…..Enrion….Is this how it ended for you? Did anyone even try to save you?_

"we're wasting time, we have to find a better position to fight, if we stay out in the open we're done for." His hand clamps tightly now, pulling harder. I turn to look at his face, his forehead covered in angered lines, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes boring into me. His harsh expression draws my dream into my mind, his eyes burn with the same intensity as they had in my dream. They burn just the same, and his face looks just how it did before….before _he_ became the monster.

I look back to the woman again, finding her in the same spot, I break his grip once more and sprint

to the woman's side, my heavy armor slapping against me with every stride. "Lyd! It's no use!" His voice calls behind me. I take the woman's hand and she looks up at me with a face filled with horror and suffering. Her face covered in dirt and soot, the only clean places on her face were the streaks where the tears ran down her face.

I loop her arm around my shoulders, as Markus had done, and once again the woman pulls back. Another call ripples through the air, only now it has grown louder and most definitely closer. I look up and find the dragon is dangerously close to our location. I turn back to the woman, and slide my arm underneath her legs, and place my other arm against her back. I lift her up, and she stops trying to fight me, for fear of being dropped on her already aching wounds.

I spot a stone building down the rubble-strewn streets, one of the only structures still standing. I begin moving toward the building, I cannot run, the woman in my arms is too heavy along with my armor and weapons. My arms begin to burn, and every step seems like a struggle.

_Only a little farther….Just hold on….Don't let go….Come on Lydia…_

I can feel the woman sinking lower and lower in my grip, and I realize there's no way I can carry her all the way there. But Markus appears in front of me suddenly, his face still annoyed, but his face is gentler, more human than before. I feel his arms slipping into the place mine had been. "Get out your bow, run to the guard tower just over there," he motions with his head to a small tower, with an archer post at the top. "lure the dragon over there, just shoot some arrows at it and it'll follow. I'll be there as soon as I can." and with that, he turned and took off toward the building, he held the woman easily up to his chest, allowing him to run.

I reach for my bow and look once more to the sky, finding the dragon now hovering above, trying to decide which of us to make his prey. I draw an arrow and pull it tight against the bowstring, and as the dragon focuses on me, I release the arrow and it shoots forward into the dragon's belly.

An angry call sounds, and the dragon dives down through the air, heading straight for me. I turn to run to the tower, with the dragon in pursuit, looking back I see the dragon has opened its wings and is gliding just above the ground close behind. I push on, and double my pace, my metal boots clank against the cobblestones as I run down the street with fresh ruins on either side of me.

But the dragon gaining on me too fast, I look back again and see the beast opening its mouth, allowing me a look deep inside its throat, where a flame is pushing itself forth. I dive behind a half-standing wall to my left, careful not to land on my bow, and cringe as flames shoot past the wall, and far beyond the spot I had just been. Heat from the flames force sweat to form on my face. Then, the flames stop, leaving the cobblestones scorched. The ground shakes then, a clear sign that the dragon had landed.

I hear the sound of its breathing, I feel the vibrations of the beast's steps. The breaths grow louder, and the vibrations stronger. I realize the dragon is coming closer to the wall now, I draw another arrow and pull it tight against the bowstring once more. I aim to my right, waiting for the beast to come into view, and walk beyond the small wall.

_Is it….looking for me..? Or for my body..? How smart are dragons supposed to be? _

My breaths are shaky, and my hands tremble, my bow sways left to right as a pitch black snout slips into view. Its nostrils are flared, small front teeth peek out from the monster's closed mouth. ***bumm, bumm, bumm* **With each step, more of the snout is revealed, and with each step my fear grows until it sits like a lump in my throat. ***bumm, bumm,* **

_Talos, guide me, oh please guide me. _

***bumm, bumm, bumm* **The dragon's front legs and shoulder blades are in sight now, but its head is turned to the right, inspecting the scene to its right, in search of it's prey. In search of me. My arms are still outstretched, holding my bow tightly, but my arms are even more unsteady now, seeing this massive beast before me.

Then, it's head swings forward, in the direction of the guard tower. I involuntarily shudder, catching the scent of the dragon. It smelled of char and what can only be described as a musky thickness. The smell is overpowering, and I gag against my will, a small sound seeping from my throat.

And just like that, I'm face-to-face with a monster, the movement of its head was a mere blur. Two wicked black horns top it's massive head, large scales coat the sides of it's head. But the eyes. The eyes are piercing, and inject me with fear. A horrible, paralyzing fear. They are an unnatural gold, as dark and rich as the sparks from a fire.

It's head rears back, then comes back down, mouth open, and another flame ignites inside it's mouth. My eyes grow wide, as the lump in my throat drops into my stomach.

_Weak spot, weak spot, where do I shoot? I only have one chance…._

I steady my hand as much as I can, take aim, and release my arrow. And the arrow finds its mark into the beast's nose. And immediately the dragon rears back, in clear distress.

_Now! Go now! Here's my chance! The guard tower….But where's Markus? Oh who cares… blundering idiot. _

I push myself off of the wall and sprint adown the street once more, ignoring the snorts and hisses of the dragon. I clasp the bow tight in my right hand, my shield and sword slam hard against my armored back, rattling and clanking uncontrollably. But I don't have time for stealth.

Another vibration ripples under me, and the sounds of flapping wings tell me the dragon has taken off into the sky. The tower is so close, I push my pace further, trying desperately to reach the safety of the stone walls.

My breathing is heavy, and I can feel wisps of wind being flung from underneath the dragon's wings. ***Flap,* **More wind, ***Flap,*** another gust, closer this time. Then, another roar sounds. But the entrance to the tower is just ahead of me, and I fling myself through it., just as the dragon dive bombs into the ground, just outside the sturdy tower.

I lift myself up to look back at the door across from me and see the dragon's face looking in at me. I scramble to get up, and stumble up the stone stairs that will surely lead to the top turret. I had just started up the stairs when another blast of flames ignited through the doorway.

Heat filled the tower, making me sweat even more. I reach the top of the stairs, and walk out into the open. I run past bodies of the guards, some burnt to a crisp, and some ripped apart. Running to the edge, I draw another arrow and aim at the dragon, who is looking through the doorway again. I scan its body, trying to find another weakness to exploit, but there are none in sight.

Thick, black scales coat the back of the beast, and there is no way shooting a dragon in the nose will kill it.

_If I draw the dragon back into the air by shooting at it, then I might get another shot at it's belly. _

I look at the burnt guard to my left, then to the dragon again.

Then again, I'd give up my position. And I think I'd like to avoid becoming fried housecarl today.

I sigh, and release my arrow into the dragon's neck. Raising it's head, the beast finds me at the top of the turret. It swiftly pushes itself off of the ground, and gains height quickly, but circles the tower once or twice, never taking its eyes off of me. I place my bow back into it's strap on my back, and take out my shield, then unsheathemy sword.

_Talos guide my sword, and strengthen my shield. On this day, I slay a dragon. _

**A/N: Okay! So what did you think? Please let me know in the friendly little box below! I don't really know when I'll be able to write the next chapter, but I will really make an effort to make time in between chapters shorter. Sorry again for any grammar mistakes, late at night really isn't the best time for me to write, but I don't have time during the day, really. I hope to have the next chapter up within a week or so, but it might be longer. **

**Thanks for reading!**


	4. Author's note

**Author's Note: Hey, guys! Sorry for not updating in a while, schoolwork has been killing me lately! The end of the quarter is next week, so there's a bunch of tests, projects, quizzes getting crammed in :( **

**The good news is that fall league is over for lacrosse, so I now have Sundays open to write! I'll really try to start updating when I actually say I'm going to.. but just assume from now on that when I say I'll update in a couple days, it'll most likely be a week to two weeks till I actually do. **

**I have started the next chapter, and so far I'm really liking it! :) I'm only about 1/3 the way through it though, so the absolute earliest time I can update would be sometime this weekend. **

**So..yeah. Thanks for all the favs and follows by the way! It means a lot! **


	5. According to Plans

**Author's Note: Okay, guys! I finally uploaded! Yay! And once again, I'm late. -_- Boo. But this time it's only by a day, so I'm not that bad, right? Anyway, I really like the way I began and ended this chapter, but I think the middle gets pretty dry. I'm not so goo at writing about fighting scenes, but I promise I'll get better! Anyway, I didn't really edit this chapter either, because I really wanted to finish this and upload it before Hurricane Sandy takes out my power, and who kows how long I would've been waiting to get my electricity back on, so fair warning on any grammar errors. **

* * *

**Markus**

Why is it that none of my plans ever go….well, according to plan?

It was simple, really. I take the roasty-toasty girl to the safe little stone building, and Lydia lures the nasty flying lizard to the tower by shooting it with arrows.

Dropping off the oh-so-charred one was pleasantly simple. But while running back to the tower, I realized not everything was so great. From a distance, I could see the dragon had perched itself on the tower, and was occupied in attacking a figure, that I could only assume was Lyd.

And here I am, standing in the middle of the street asking myself, "What…the…fuck?"

_Shoot arrows at it,_ I said, _Distract it, _I said. Translate into Lydian-speak, and you get 'Get it to land on top of the tower, and then fight it with your sword!'

_Right, cause I'm sure close quartered combat works out real well when you're standing on a building. With a huge-ass dragon. That can easily knock you off. Or turn you into a Lydia-crisp. Alright, Markus….think…._

Looking around for anything to form a plan, I see nothing but remnants of the town.

_On the bright side, this is a great chance for some remodeling… But nothing useful against dragons…Guess we're going with the head-on approach. _

I start sprinting to the tower, which is only a little ways away. As I come closer, I see that Lyd is actually holding her own; switching her strikes from the dragon's winged-arms, and it's lower throat. Looking closer, I see that the dragon's two back feet are standing on the small wall of the turret, leaving the dragon off balance, and vulnerable.

I smile, a plan finally forming in my head. I pass through the tower doorway and climb the stairs to the top. I draw my sword, and with a snap flames ignite in my left hand. As soon as I step out, I realize I just put my self in the middle of the fight. The dragon sits in front of me, it's head instantly snapping in my direction. I see Lydia off to my right, shield drawn, and face contorted in anger and confusion. I look back to the dragon, which is now rearing it's head back, and drawing in air.

"Oh….fuck me…" I mutter.

"Get down!" I hear Lydia say, more in anger than concern.

Everything seems to go in slow motion, as I look back to Lydia again, I decide the woman with the shield is the best bet, if not the only one, to take. I push myself forward into a roll, hoping to end up right behind Lydia. And her handy shield.

Luckily, I hit my mark, Lydia crouched down, and secured the shield to the ground. A moment later, flames shot past the spot where I had just been standing. "You have a plan?" she said, as the flames then shifted, and began pushing against the shield. I am crouching down, just a breath away from her clearly annoyed face.

I looked her annoyed face, and smiled, "Little bit of a plan, I'm still working on it." I say, as the flames begin to tunnel over the top of the shield, dropping just low enough to make it hot. "Okay, on three, drop your shield." Her look turns from annoyance to confusion.

"That's a _horrible_ plan," she said, her icy blue eyes looking up to the flames funneling just over our heads.

"One," I said, her head snapped back down to face me, her pale skin and light features clouded with an angered expression.

"I'm _not_ dropping my shield!" Her eyes now tearing into me, her expression little more than a snarl from a wolf.

"two,"

_I wonder if she'll bite my face off as a wolf would, that would be amusing. And painful… Right, focus on the dragon problem, Markus…focus on the dragon. _

"You're crazy I'm not-" I stopped listening then, watching as the flames began to dwindle, until they no longer had the power to push above the shield.

"three, now Lyd!" I stood up, waiting for Lydia to drop the shield.

Except she didn't.

Because things just never go according to plan.

Letting out a sigh I back up, and jump over the small shield and the woman behind it. Once over, I see that the flames had stopped, just as I thought they would. I sprint towards the dragon, who is still perched awkwardly on the tower's wall. I re-ignite my left hand as I draw closer to the big lizard.

It's eyes are clearly following my movements, and watching as I draw closer into striking distance.

_C'mon ya big scaly bitch…. _

A little closer, and its head lunges forward, mouth open, ready to grab a bite. As its head comes down, I duck and roll right under it. Getting up from the roll, I see I'm right under the dragon's belly. It's head is still down, and for the moment its completely vulnerable.

I run over to the dragon's talons on the wall and begin hacking at one of them with my sword, and burning the other with the flames from my magic.

After four or five chops, I realize that the legs are just as well protected as the scales on the dragon's back.

The dragon head is up, and now looking down on me. But it is distracted, arrows flying towards its face, forcing its attention to Lydia. Looking over to her, I can see that she is in the same spot as before, only this time the shield has been braced in between the loose stones of the tower's roof.

The dragon once again releases more flames toward Lydia, who then ducks behind the braced shield.

"Clever girl…" I mumble. Looking back, I try to find weak points in the dragon's legs. Then it hits me;

_Sure the big scaly legs are protected, but the thin spindly talons seem easy enough to chop off. _

Having since paused my efforts with my magic, I grip the hilt of my sword with both hands, hoping for a clean and easy cut. The dragon's talons hang over the stone, almost as if on a beheading block themselves.

With one swing, the talons were sliced off, and my sword made a satisfying sound when it made contact with the stone of the wall.

The dragon's had then lost its hold on the wall, causing it to slide off the wall, sending the unsuspecting dragon falling awkwardly forward, and effectively extinguishing the flames pouring from its mouth. I dive from the one side of the dragon to the other, ready to take the other leg out from under the overgrown lizard.

Getting back up, it's obvious the dragon had gotten back up, steadying itself on its wing. That was expected, but what wasn't expected was Lydia, up close and personal with the dragon's wing, slashing at it with her sword, and bashing it with her shield.

_She's got guts, at least. Now hopefully they aren't ripped out of her… _

Once more, I bring my sword down on the dragon's remaining talons, and slice them off cleanly. Once again, the dragon struggles to gain a foothold on the wall, and with Lydia bashing its wing, has again fallen face-first onto the ground.

The talon-less legs flail about, trying to gain traction or a hold of something to steady themselves on the tower's roof. As they stomp around, its apparent the nasty lizard won't fall on its own. When the stump of a leg stomps onto the ground once again, I sheathe my sword and begin to push the stump back.

Without a stable grip, the dragon can't defend itself from the force, and the first leg slips over the stone wall. The dragon desperately claws at the stone with its wings, and other stump, but isn't capable of holding onto the surface without its talons.

I draw my sword and stab it deep into the dragon's hide, and use the blade as a ledge to pull me up onto the dragon's back. Once on top, I reach down and pull the blade from the dragon's side.

I hop down on the other side of the dragon, and push the other stump off the ledge. The dragon's body began to slide down the side of the tower, the wings desperately trying to grab a hold of anything to keep itself from falling. But with every passing second, more and more of the dragon slides down the side, and over the wall.

I jog calmly to the neck of the nasty lizard, and once again use my sword as a stepping stone to the top of the dragon's hide. Once on top, I walk casually to the center of the dragon's skull and look over to Lydia, who is standing with her sword still drawn and shield at the ready.

The dragon by now is bellowing loudly in pain, no longer trying to grill up some Lydia roast. "Hey, Lyd," I call, "watch this!" I place both hands on the hilt of my sword again and this time, drive it deep into the dragon's skull, silencing the dragon's moans immediately. Blood shoots out, spattering my face and armor.

_Well, that wasn't expected._

I stand, and wipe my face on my armor's sleeve, and spit out the taste of dragon blood from my mouth. "Nasty," I say, but then, a movement from beneath me throws me off balance and throws me to the ground.

Pain erupts from my back as I hit the unforgiving stone, and I can hear Lydia's laughter from here. "Yes," more bitter laughter, "very impressive, _my thane_" bitter laughter mixed with venomous words, "but next time try to stick the landing, eh?"

_She's just jealous….Ow….oh fuck…._

A slithering sound lets me know the dragon is once again sliding further down. And then, ***boom***.

_Yep, there goes big 'n nasty now. _

Looking up, and still thoroughly in pain, I can see I'm right in the fact that the dragon has slipped down the side of the tower, and hit the ground below. Lydia appears next to me then, offering a hand. "Where did you leave the woman, anyway?"

I accept her hand, but push myself off the ground. "Who?" My head is still pounding from the fight and the pain in my back.

"Don't tell me you forgotten _already?_"

_And cue the angry look- Oh! There it is. _

"Umm….still not ringing any bells…Oh! Wait, you mean old toasty back there!" _And just like, that, the wolf snarl is back. Lucky me, survive a dragon just to be mauled to death by a wolf-lady. Lovely day this is turning out to be. _"Right, I put her in the building clear across town." I say as I walk toward the staircase leading down into the tower.

Lydia follows me, of course, but makes no other efforts to talk, so I suppose I already made our friendship super special and lovey-dovey enough for her. As we descend the stairs, the sound of fires crackling and the smell of ash fills the air once more. Exiting the crippled tower, I walk over to the dead dragon, and pull a dagger from its sheathe on my right leg, just above my boot.

"What're you doing?" I hear Lydia call from behind me. "It's already dead, we should go help the woman." Kneeling down, I begin to slash at the scales, and ripping them from the dragon's body.

"Dragon scales are valuable, and I've been told they make good armor. You go check on the woman, I'll be here if you need me." I hear her scoff and then stomp away, the clanking of her shield and sword against her armor making her exit all the more dramatic.

_Well, isn't she a charmer? Simply a lovely woman, lovely woman. Wish I had a girl like that, I might actually want to settle down then. _

I crack up laughing. First at the thought of settling down. Second at the thought of Lydia being a lovely and charming woman. I cut and hack at the scales of the dragon, and remove the majority of its larger bones before Lydia gets back.

She walks up to me, stopping only a few feet from the spot where I sit. She carries herself with the same self-righteous gait, however her face is…..emptier then before. No anger, no expression, really she's just staring at the dead beast. Looking her up and down from my crouched position in front of the dragon, I decide to ask, "Something wrong?" Her face is distant, and almost…ghostly.

She looks over at me, finally. Her normally blue eyes now more grey and plain than before. "She's…" I know what she means, and I knew the woman would die. But I didn't know Lydia would actually…._care._

Standing up, I look her over again, trying to understand what this woman's problem is. "Sorry to hear that, Lyd." And in an instant, her face is again the shadow of a wolf, ready to tear me apart in an instant.

"No you're not! Just a moment ago you were making fun of her state! You called her 'Old toasty'! Do not tell me you are now suddenly 'sorry' for her!" I strained against the urge to roll my eyes, fearing I really would get mauled.

_Will nothing I say appease this woman!?_ _Okay, Markus maybe try calming her down? _

I put on my best 'I'm serious now' face and try to speak the same way, in an effort to get along with this strange woman. "Have you ever been here before, did you have any relatives or friends here?" I don't know why I thought that might calm her down.

"Whatever was here before is ashes now. So I suppose it wouldn't matter who _was_ here, would it?"

_And cue the dramatic exit. Yep, ladies and gentlemen, there she goes, Lydia the pissed! _

_And of course she left in an angered demeanor,_

_Because things never go according to plans_.

**Okay, so what did you think!? Let me know by typing in that nice little box down there ;) Thinga are going to start picking up real soon, so stay tuned! Oh, and thanks again guys for all the favs, follows, and reviews!**


	6. Skulls, Inns, and Old women

**Author's Note: So, I wrote this basically all in one day, and I'm proud of myself! This chapter is pretty long, a lot longer than my other chapters, but since I don't think I'll be able to update for a while, I think the length is appropriate. Anyway, I'm sorry if there's any grammar errors, I edited most of it, buuuttt...I got bored. So sorry if it sucks in that respect! Anyway...Here ya' go!**

* * *

**Markus**

After Lydia's prompt exit, I turn back and gather the dragon scales into a pile to carry back to the horses. But as I finish gathering them, the carcass begins to shake, and suddenly a familiar orange burst of light surrounds the slain dragon at my feet.

The carcass burst into flames, and the orange light encircles me. "Not again," I mumble, dreading the feeling that would soon follow. The orange light bursts into a white light, which is suddenly drawn into me.

My head begins to spin, and before I know it, I'm kneeling on the ground, gasping for my breath. The pain is unbearable, it feels like hot fire is rushing through my veins, incinerating everything it touches. I look at my hands, which are shaking uncontrollably.

I stare at the cobblestones below me as they begin to blur together, I look up at the dragon before me. Where there was once scales and meat, now only bones remain. The skull of the beast seems to smile wickedly at me, as if taunting me for some unseen reason.

The skeleton blurs, then clears continuously, leaving a throbbing inside my head and intensifying the pain shooting through my body.

"-y Thane!" I hear a high pitched voice call, but the sound is harsh on my ears, and I close my eyes, hoping to make everything stop. Make the world stop moving, make the pain just….just….stop.

I open my eyes to a gentle touch on my shoulder, and see the blur of a face. I squint my eyes, trying to clear my vision. As my sight clears, I can see Lydia's face staring down at me. "My Thane, are you alright?"

Her eyes are wide, frantic, even. Her hands cup my face and hold it up, her clear blue-grey eyes pierce down into mine in search for answers. I breathe in once, and try to speak, "Yeah, Lyd I'm just….I just…." I pull my head from her hands, and push myself up from the ground, my head still spinning. "I just need some time." My voice is hoarse and rough. I close my eyes, and try to steady my footing.

"What happened? Where did that light come from?" Her voice scratches at my ears, sending another throb through my head. I hold up my hand, signaling her to stop talking, with the other hand I drag my palm across my forehead in an effort to wipe the screeching sound away.

Everything hits me at once, every noise, every movement, even the light is overwhelming. I can hear the calls from the birds far above us as if they were right next to my head, the crackling of the fire burning throughout the remains of the town, the swaying of the trees in the distance, my own heartbeat pumping frantically, even Lydia's breathing seems painfully loud. And the light.

_Oh, fuck, the light._

The sun has never seemed so bright, even opening my eyes sends a burning through them.

"Can we just, talk about this later? My head…" I open my eyes, ignoring the pain from the light, and see her face is still full of questions. I take a deep breath, and feel the strength in my legs returning.

She speaks again, this time softly, "There's a small town just west of here," she pauses to see my reaction to her voice. "we could go there, and rest at the inn for the night."

_A dark, cozy, quiet inn sounds good right about now. So does sleep…and a hot meal…..some mead, too. _

I nod gently, but instantly regret the small motion as the spinning sensation returns. Lydia looks me up and down, then adds, "I'll fetch the horses," her voice is just as soft as before, "you wait here, I won't be long." She then turns and walks at a quick, yet even pace back to the path we came from.

I look back to the scale pile, and sigh.

_Just me, a skeleton, and a pile of ashes, I guess. Just like always. _

Flashes of fire, smoke, and wails of pain invade my mind, bringing horrors of a time long since passed back across my mind. I close my eyes and squeeze them tightly, wishing to squeeze the memories from my thoughts.

I focus on the pain shooting through my nerves, on the throbbing in my ears, anything besides my thoughts. Anything besides my memories.

The fire is doused, the smoke cleared away, the wails silenced, the pain shrouded.

* * *

We made it to the town before sunset, and by the time we arrived my body ached all over; every muscle, every bone in me seemed sore. And the horse ride here hadn't helped. The constant motion made everything worse, and by the time the town had come into view, I was on the verge of insanity.

Along the way I caught glimpses of Lydia staring at me; no worry in her face, no anger, no sadness, nothing. Just one person looking at another; part of me was glad when she yelled earlier, glad just to see she was capable of something more than the ghostly expression and personality that seemed to be all she was made up of.

Now, as we walk into the town, her face is just as empty. I can't help but wonder what she's thinking. And I can't imagine she'd ever want to tell me.

The streets are dark, the only light coming from the occasional light post that shatters the cold night with it's warm glow. The town is empty, save for a few night guards on their patrol.

Lydia walks ahead of me, striding comfortably along the street, "The inn is just ahead," she looks back at me, then continues, "are you going to tell me what happened back there?" her voice is even, and smooth. No hint of any emotion. Just a simple, and easy enough question to answer.

Except it's not.

"I'll tell you over dinner, Lyd, I don't want to talk about it here." I say, trying not to sound annoyed or bothered.

She just nods her head and looks forward again. The street is lined with houses and small shops, all made of stone, and all obviously weathered and worn. Looking into one of the shop windows, I see an arrangement of cloth dolls sitting in small wooden chairs at a matching table.

The sound of music breaks my focus from the display, looking back to the street ahead of us, it's apparent that we've reached the center of the town. Bright lanterns illuminate the town's heart, and the music streams joyfully from the inn, echoing through the empty streets and inviting the town's inhabitants to join the fun.

Lydia walks toward the inn, and I follow slowly, wanting to take in the warm feeling coming off this place. Each town in Skyrim I've seen so far has seemed…..cold. Same for the people who live here.

_It's nice to see some signs of life in this wasteland. _

As we draw closer to the inn, the sounds of laughter and merriment grow louder, promising a good time for all who enter. The inn itself seems like just another stone building in this small town; square, cold, dull, and overall plain.

But something is different about the inn; the lanterns, the music, the laughter, even the stone that make up the walls seem to call to out to me, and invite me inside.

Lydia walks up to the large wooden door and pulls it open firmly, and it's then obvious where all the townspeople spend their nights.

* * *

**Lydia**

I hold the door open for Markus to pass through, which he does so excitedly. Inside, the people of the town fill every table, chair, corner, and crevice of the room. Each one of them either singing, laughing, yelling, or as the case with the couples in the space, acting as though they are in _dire_ need of a room.

Markus's head turns from side to side, searching the room for a table, most likely.

I look to my right and see a fat, burly nord seated in a chair in the far corner, with a small blonde elf woman sitting in his lap, with her legs astride his hips. The two were kissing…..quite fervently. But then the tan, blonde elf broke the kiss and whispered something in the nord's ear before she leaned back, and smiled at him wickedly. The nord smiled back and bellowed out a laugh, his dark beard shaking with every heave of his large mead-gut. The elf jumped up, and ran playfully to the staircase at the far end of the room, with the nord in pursuit of her.

I sigh, and tap on Markus's shoulder, knowing that talking would be useless with the barrage of sounds around us. He turns his head back, and I point to the some-what secluded, vacant table in the corner. Markus looks over at it, nods his head, and walks toward it.

As we sit down, I can see Markus's face has completely changed from earlier; he seemed much more lively, the pain I'd seen in his eyes earlier was gone, and he had a large smile on his face.

_But what were those lights? And why won't he talk about it? _

I'd turned back from walking away, and saw Markus, surrounded by orange light, which swirled around his tall form, as the dragon's body burst into flames and burned until there was nothing but bones left. Then the orange light was replaced by a white flare, which was then sucked into Markus.

And then he collapsed.

It was easy to forget my duties when he was being the insensitive idiot he is, but when he could've been hurt, or dead, for all I knew, it was different.

_I've been a fool. _

"_Try to stay as distant as possible. From him and his words." _Irileth had told me. But I'm a fool, and did not see what she had actually meant.

_By 'distant' she meant in mind, not in actual distance. If I'd actually known what she was telling me, I would have known not to let his words anger me, I would have known to stay calm…..to stay….isolated. And turning my back on Markus was a mistake. A fool's mistake…my mistake._

Markus's face as I held his head up flashed through my mind. The veins in his forehead straining, the pain in his eyes, his gasps for breath as he was kneeling on the ground…..

_I will __**never**__ let that happen again. No matter what he does, I __**will**__ protect him, from dragons or bandits or even his own damn self. His words mean nothing, I won't let them effect me again._

Fingers snapping in front of me stir me from my thoughts, and I realize I've been staring at Markus, in a daze. "You okay, Lyd?"

_Stupid nickname…Doesn't matter._

"Yes, I was just thinking….." The small candle at our table expose lines on his face that make him seem tired, maybe even older. A serving wench approached us before Markus could say anything.

"Aye, there, what'll it be, you two? We've got a fresh shipment of Black-Briar Mead, straight from the brewery!" I turn to see a rather short redguard woman with a large smile on her face, and her hands filled with mead glasses. Her hair was dark, same as her eyes, and her skin tone a light brown with small freckles covering her face. She was very pretty, but a large scar ran from her left shoulder across her chest and below the neckline of her bodice. The scar was obviously from a sabre cat, the space between each claw mark gave it away. "And…uh, if you're interested, we've got some skooma in the back, there handsome." The woman winked at Markus, who smiled, and laughed at his mention.

"I think we'll just have two meads and whatever the cook has for dinner," Markus said evenly.

"Comin' right up," the woman said cheerfully, "though good luck holdin' the food down." and with that, she was gone.

Looking around the room, I try to find a familiar face. I'd been to this town before, though it was years ago when I was just a kid. I was hoping to see anyone I might recognize, but only drunkards, wenches, and a couple stormcloak soldiers were to be seen.

"So…about earlier, at the town?" Markus asked, grabbing my attention. I turn back, hoping for a clear answer. He looked into my eyes for a minute before he continued, "Well, the lights you saw? That was the dragon's soul." Markus's eyes dropped to the table then. "And that's how I absorb them, after they're dead," his voice was more quiet now.

It made sense, perfect sense, and I can't believe I hadn't figured it out before. He had to absorb the soul somehow, but I didn't think it would be like _that_.

"So, what does it feel like? To absorb a dragon's soul?" My voice sounded small, childish, but I didn't care, my curiosity taking hold of me.

His eyes looked up from the table, and the emerald green color seemed brighter than ever. He looked into my eyes for a moment, before looking into the flame of the small candle at our table. The noise around us seemed to have quieted, or perhaps it was just me drowning everything but his voice out; whichever it was, it didn't matter.

"Well, you know how when you eat way too much, your stomach feels like it's gonna just burst open?" He looked up from the small flame, and I nodded for him to continue, though I was confused about the relation between food and dragon souls. "It feels a lot like that, like…..like…." He looked back to the candle, "like I'm gonna tear at the seams," he sighed, lifted his hand from under the table, and ran his fingers over the flickering light of the candle. "or like the dragon's soul is fighting me from the inside, trying to rip me apart."

I tried to picture what it must feel like, but imagining a pain like that….just doesn't seem real.

The redguard woman returned, balancing two plates on either of her arms, and holding two large glasses of mead. Markus looked up and smiled at the woman as she set the plates down before us, "Thank you," She smiled at him and was about to turn away when he continued talking, "also, do you think we could get two rooms for the night?"

"Well a' course, this _is_ an inn, isn't it?" She gave Markus a sly smile, and waded her way back through the crowd.

The meat on our plates was impossible to identify, but my stomach cried out for food. We ate in silence for a long while, but I couldn't stop the questions from flowing through my mind.

"So, is that going to happen all the time?" He looked up from his meal with a slightly confused face. "The pain, I mean, it'll stop eventually, right? You just have to get used to it?"

He took a sip of his mead and spoke, "I honestly don't know, the Greybeards didn't tell me much, and there's not a bunch of Dragonborn running around to ask, so…..I hope so, but…." his eyes glazed over, his brow furrowed, and the realization set in. For both of us.

The realization that no matter what happens, we're on our own with this Dragonborn-thing.

The meal left much to be desired, but our conversations were improving. At no point during dinner did I feel the need to talk back, or roll my eyes, or even think an insulting remark.

Then again, dinner only lasted about twenty minutes.

After that, we headed off to our rooms for the night, seeing as how we both were tired from the day's events.

The room was small, and certainly not the cleanest, but it had a bed and that was good enough for me. Soon we'll be sleeping outdoors in the charmingly vicious Skyrim wilderness. But at least for one more night, I can rest with the comfort of having four walls and a door around me.

As I lay in the straw-filled mattress, the sound of the festivities downstairs are hard to ignore, but with time, my senses numb, and I slip off to sleep.

* * *

**Markus**

_Kneeling on the ground, I gasp for my breath, desperate for air. Looking around me, I see blackness everywhere. I try to pick myself up off the ground, but my body feels impossibly heavy. I close my eyes and wish myself awake. _

"This is no dream, Dovahkiin." a deep voice echoes from above. I open my eyes and look everywhere, frantic to find the source of the voice. "Not a dream and not a nightmare,"

My breathing completely stops, my lungs burn for air, my veins are on fire again, the same crippling pain as before. A figure appears before me, huge, black, with gold eyes. The dragon from before. "No, this is something far worse," Wake up….wake up…..please wake up….

"This is your past," the blackness erupts into a familiar scene; in the middle of a dense forest, the weight of the chains around my chest, squeezing the life from me as the tree across from me burns, the screams and wails piercing my ears as the body chained to it is reduced to ashes, only then do the screams stop. Tears stream down my face, I would be screaming, crying, anything, but I can't. I can't breathe, I can't scream, I can't move.

"this is your present," a blinding white light flashes, and then everything is different. The remains of the town from today lay before me, but the corpses are wailing, screaming just as…just as….No….no more….I close my eyes, and try to look away, but some unseen force holds my head forward, as the people cling to life, as they cry out to their Gods, beg for help….No more…no more…

"and this," the voice stops to laugh, "is your future, dovah." Another white light, and now….Whiterun lays before me in shambles, just as the last town, the flames burn, the people scream, but Lydia lays before me, burning alive as she screams for my help, screams for me to do something, to save her…but…I can't….I watch as her pale, smooth face turns black, and charred.

I jump up from my dream, my body coated in sweat. I look around the small, dirty room, and breath in deep, thankful I can move again…..And breath.

Throwing my sheets to the side, I put my feet on the ground, and put my head in my hands. "What the hell was that?" I feel sweat roll down my abs and back, the cool sensation somewhat comforting, somewhat annoying.

My eyes are heavy with need of sleep, but after that….Sleep doesn't seem all that appealing. I grab a red cambric shirt from my pack at the foot of the bed, and pull it over my head quickly, then pull a pair of brown hide pants from my pack, and slip them on. I reach under the bead and pull my boots on, tucking my pants into my boots.

I stand up, and walk to the door, opening it, it's obvious the party downstairs has since ended, the noise having died down considerably. I walk down the short hall, past Lydia's room on my right, and reach the staircase. I walk down the stairs gently, not wanting to make any noise that might wake anyone, mostly Lydia, up.

Once I was down the stairs, I could see that only a few lonely drunks were left over, each mumbling to themselves about something or other in their little spots at the bar. I walk casually through the tables, which are all covered in mead and mysterious substances.

I reached the large wooden door, and was about to push it open, when a small voice spoke behind me, "Leaving so soon? It's not even sunrise yet," I turn to see the serving girl standing at the other end of the room, broom in hand, staring at me.

I look around the room, trying to find a door she might've passed through to get there while I was walking away, but I don't see any. I smile, trying to not to let my unease show. "Nah, no one can get rid of me that easy," I turn back and push the door open before she can reply.

Stepping outside, the lanterns are no longer glowing, and the town has taken on a new persona. Where there was once warmth and cheerfulness, there's now just…emptiness.

I walk through the streets, my breath showing in the cold air, and goose bumps forming on my skin. It's funny how no matter how warm it is outside when you go to bed here, it's always cold when you wake up. Maybe it's just Skyrim welcoming its inhabitants back to a land of misery and death, after having pleasant dreams and friendly company in their beds they need a taste of the real world.

I walk down the streets, not bothering where I am, or where I'm going, or caring whether I could find my way back to the inn. Lydia prodded me for answers, and I have what I could, but the one question she asked only made more questions to answer: Was the pain going to stop?

A simple, easy enough question to answer.

Except, it wasn't.

It just forced more questions.

_What if the pain doesn't stop? Does that mean every time I kill a dragon, I'm going to be writhing around in blaring pain? How many dragons are there, actually? How long am I going to have to do this for? What if it never ends? Do I just keep fighting and fighting and fighting until I die? Until a dragon finally kills me? When does it end?…How does it end? …..And why me? _

I see a small stone bench to the end of the street, and decide to sit down for a minute, and clear my head. I lean back against the cool stone, and breathe in. I open my eyes and look across the street to see a familiar shop, with cloth dolls in the window.

I look along the small tables and reach on that catches my eye; a doll, slightly larger and considerably tanner than the rest faces me, wearing a red shirt, brown pants, and small boots. The doll has spiky black hair…..and green eyes.

My eyes open wide, as I notice next to that doll, a small, pale one with grey cloth armor complete with a shield and sword sits with it. The second doll has medium length, brown hair, with one braid in the front, and steel grey eyes, with rings of blue.

My breathing picks up, and I close my eyes and reopen them, trying to grasp what was in front of me. Then, I notice a small shape moving around the shop, heading towards the door. I watch as an old lady steps out of the door, her long grey hair behind her shoulders, wearing a long fur coat, and winter boots. She notices me immediately, and strides over to the bench as if she'd done it a dozen times before.

I look back to the dolls and the back to her wrinkled face. She follows my gaze and smiles at the dolls, then turns back to me with the same smile. "Yes, I knew you were coming long before you were born, lad. I knew you'd sit on this very bench, and I knew you'd become the Dragonborn." I feel my face stuck somewhere between 'Get away from me crazy lady' and 'I just pissed myself'.

"That's an awful lot of knowing," she laughed at that, but her laugh broke into a sickly cough, and she sat on the bench to steady herself.

"I suppose," she coughed a bit more, "it is a lot of knowing, but I also know you have many questions, questions you deserve to have answered, my boy." staring into her light blue eyes and wizened, yet friendly face remind me of the feeling I had when I saw the inn, last night; intrigued, trusting, and…warmed, just by her presence. "So, ask your questions, but only ask what you're prepared to know."

**Author's Note: Okay, so a couple things I learned from this chapter: Dolls are creepy, no matter what, and I'm really bad at making old women seem mysterious and mystical! Anyways, let me know what you think! It helps me a lot to know what you guys are thinking so I can make improvements and make a better story for everyone! Yayyyy! So yeah, Bye! **


	7. Answers?

_**Author's note: Hey guys, sorry for the really long wait, had a really chaotic month. Anyway, here's the next chapter, with a little story from no one in particular's view point called 'Three murders, she wrote.' **_

_**I was going to make this chapter really really long, but I'm just going to break it up into two chapters. The second one should be up before christmas since I don't have any schoolwork or anything like that. **_

_**So, yeah. Here's the first part: **_

**Markus**

"So, ask your questions, but only ask what you're prepared to know." A chill ran through me.

_This is crazy….She's crazy… _

And yet, her words promise answers, as do her eyes. Answers. A blessed thought. Ever since I came to Skyrim, all I've had are questions. The first being 'Where the fuck am I?' when I woke up on that carriage ride with Stormcloak captives heading towards the nice little execution party.

Funny, that all seems like a distant memory now…..

Then all this business with being 'The Dragonborn', and going to the old guys on the huge-ass mountain in search of answers, yet still only getting more questions. There seems to be very little I know now, if anything at all. My eyes drift from hers, my gaze resting on the cobblestone street below us.

_So what if this woman is crazy? I might very well be driven mad unless I get some answers… what would the harm be in speaking with her? If she's crazy, she's crazy and I walk away with a good laugh._

Looking up, I am suddenly acutely aware of the sun's rising behind me; the warm light illuminates the woman's face, and pours into her eyes. But something in her eyes flashes, and where clear blue eyes gazed at me once, gold ones do now. Flashes of my dream creep into my mind, but I close my eyes and shake my head.

"Is everything alright, my boy?" The fragile voice said. I open my eyes, and stare into hers, searching for proof; either that I really am being driven mad, or that something is very wrong. But her eyes are a soft, pale blue; just as before.

I relax muscles that I hadn't realized I'd tensed, and exhale, once again lowering my gaze to the street. I lean forward, and bury my head in my hands, trying to think of a good place to start. "Well," I breathe out deeply, "I guess my first question would be, what am I supposed to do? Ya' know, as the dragonborn? What do I actually **do**? Just kill dragons, or…?" I hear a small chuckle from the woman and look up to find her giving me a gentle, withered smile.

"Yes, I suppose that would be my first as well. You are to do as you have been doing; kill the dragons, protect Skyrim."

"That's it? That's all there is to it?" My voice is edgy; my frustration seeping into it.

"No, my boy, there's far more to it than just that. But to tell you all of what is to come would change your future," her head turns sadly to the side, "change your destiny."

"…..What is my destiny?….. How does all this end?" I ask, hesitantly.

She reached out to me then, placing her hand on my face, as if I needed sympathy, or comfort. "You will become a hero; a **true** son of Skyrim, a symbol for all it's people. You will gain wealth, power, land, and love. Of all these things, love shall harbor the greatest rewards for you," She paused a moment, her palm still resting on my cheek, though I barely notice its presence.

She continued then, "so long as you put aside your foolish pride." she gave a weak hum of a laugh, the sadness still present in her eyes and smile.

_Why does she look so sad then…? Wealth, power, land…..eh, love… Never have really cared for the idea. With all those, what else would I need? _

I realize now that the second part of my question hasn't been answered. I feel my eyebrows press together, and my throat go dry. I reach up and pull her hand off my face, rougher than I intend. "How does it end?" My voice is deadly serious, demanding the answers she promised.

Her eyes become glossy, her thin, wrinkled lips form a straight line, and her small sigh fills me with nothing but hollowness.

* * *

**Lydia**

I open my eyes to light pouring in through the small window in the seedy tavern room. My night had been filled with a dreamless sleep which was a welcome experience.

Sitting up in the small bed, I throw back the thin, yet warm sheets, and stretch slowly, relishing in how rejuvenated I feel after a good night's sleep. I lye back down on the bed, and find myself wondering what Markus is up to.

Upon thinking of my thane, I decide it'd best not to keep him waiting, if he is awake. I hop out of bed and walk to the small dresser across the room and pull my armor from the top of it.

I pull on the familiar metal, and am reminded of the aches my body felt after yesterday's events. I place my shield on my back, sheath my sword at my side, and fasten my bow to my shoulder.

_Another day, another adventure. Just remember your oath to serve and protect him. Talos guide me, let my sword be quick and my shield strong. _

On that thought, I open the room's door, and walk down the hall to Markus's room to see if he is awake yet. But walking up to his room, there is something obviously wrong; his door is partly open, and looking inside, I can see no sign of Markus.

I open the door fully and walk inside, looking from side to side for any signs of trouble. His light armor is at the bottom of his bed, the sheets twisted and mangled. I almost turn away from the bed when something within the sheets catches my eye.

Among the sheets is a small dark object, I walk closer and lift it from the bed. As I lift it, a chain appears from within the sheets, and it's apparent the figure is a necklace. A flash of the night Markus came into Dragon's reach crosses my mind; the small chain around his neck, and the lump under his shirt. I'd thought it might've been an amulet of Talos then.

But now I see it's no such thing. A clear, smooth orb lies in between a set of gold rings that encircle it. I hold the orb up to the light peeking through the window, and see that on the gold rings, words are inscribed, though not in any language I know of.

Light seems to pour into the orb, and the rings around it seem to glow. I let out a quiet sigh, admiring it's simple yet elegant design.

I look around the room, feeling slightly unsure at the moment. I look back to the amulet, before slipping it into one of my pockets, feeling like a child stealing a sweet roll. "Well, if he isn't here," I mumble to myself, "then where….?" I take a final glance around the empty room and stride over to the door, and shut it as I leave.

As I walk down the hall to the stairs, my hope builds that he might just be getting some breakfast downstairs, and in his haste to leave his room he had left his door open.

But as the inn's main room comes into view, I see there's only a serving girl placing mead mugs under the bar. I weave my way through the chairs and tables toward the bar. "Pardon me," the girl stands up, sending her blonde hair flying into her eyes. "did you see a man leave here this morning?" she flipped her hair to the side and huffed angrily at it.

Her face softened when she looked at me, "Aye, aye, a whole mess of 'em, dearie." She nodded her head enthusiastically. She looked away and off into the ceiling, with a finger rested on her lips as she began to think out loud, "Let's see, there was a jolly fat nord what came down from upstairs, and a drunken argonian fella sayin' sumtin' bout how his tail was on fire, 'cept there weren't no flames that I could see. Oh! And a particularly shady lookin' orc, wouldn't want to cross paths with him again. But that's about it, ya lookin' for your man, then?" Her face is beaming; she is possibly the happiest person I've seen in a very long time.

"Erm, no, I'm looking for my **thane**, actually." Her face drops, "He's maybe this tall," I reach up above my head for a moment, then drop my hand and continue, "he's tan, umm, dark hair," her face hints that she has no idea who I'm talking about. "with green eyes…?" My voice is weak with disappointment.

She shakes her head, sending the strands of hair back into her eyes. "So sorry, dearie, but I've not seen anyone like that this mornin'. Elsie was the one watchin' the bar earlier. But I've not seen her for a while now, I don't know where she could've gone to. Wish I could help you, but I best get back to work." The girl smiled again, before turning away, and walking through the door to the kitchen.

With a sigh, I turn away, and head towards the door. I push it open with a huff.

_Markus where the fuck are you?_

I step outside into the cool, bright morning air and look around the small town. The people have woken up, and the merchant stalls are crowded with customers. The streets are teeming with people, seemingly more people than this town can hold.

_Great. How am I ever going to find him now?_

I loop around the market, hoping to find him shopping at one of the stalls, or just wandering around. But my search of the market turns up empty. I then decide to wander the streets, peeking my head above the crowds in search of his tall frame.

I know my way around this old town, I'd been sent here by Jarl Balgruuf a couple years ago to train under one of the best alchemists in Skyrim: Dilitus the Strange. And strange he certainly was.

Dilitus was an old oaf of an imperial, and not one I'd like to see again. He was rude and bitter, and shouted whenever I screwed up a potion and wasted his supplies. And whenever I wasted supplies, he would send me outside the city to fetch more.

I was never very good at alchemy, and I struggled with making even the simplest potions, so I was constantly being sent out to replenish Dilitus's stock. I got lost within this maze of a city more times than I can count, but with time I memorized every inch of this town. So finding Markus should be easy.

_As long as he's still in the city…_

I pace the streets, wading through the waves of people. I stand on my toes, looking for spiky black hair. But I see nothing of the sort.

My heart begins to beat. I'd been with my thane no longer than a day and a half, if that, and I've already lost him. I push my way to the side of the road, and watch the people pass by.

After a few moments of pointlessly skimming the street, I wade back into the steady stream of people.

_There was never __**this **__many people in this damn town. _

I'd made a loop around the city, with no sign of him. I head towards the street we came in by, my heart beating fast.

I turn into the street, and begin walking down it. But as I am walking, the people in front of me thin out, and an eerie feeling passes over me.

_Wherever Markus is, he's giving me a panic attack. _

More people seem to leave the streets, making it easier to look ahead. Then, in a gap between the people, I see Markus. He's sitting on a bench, facing toward me, but staring at a small woman with long grey hair. His face is twisted with emotion, but I'm too far away to tell whether it's sadness or shock.

The back of someone's head cuts off my view of him, and by the time I can see the two again, the woman is gone, and Markus is staring blankly at the place she was sitting just a moment ago. I catch sight of her fur coat slipping into the street, but Markus just sits there.

Markus looks down at the ground, his face empty. I push my way out of the street, toward him. "My thane, is everything alright?" My voice is shaky, my nerves still getting the best of me. His head slowly looks up, his face paler than I've ever seen it.

He looks at me, and then back down. I just stand there for a moment, until Markus inhales deeply and stands up. "C'mon, Lyd, let's go. I'm tired of this town. Let's go kill something." He strode off and into the street, leaving me there, staring at him.

Just a couple moments ago, he looked devastated. And now he wanted to kill. I sigh, and follow him back to the inn.

We gather our belongings, stock up on supplies from the stalls, pick up our horses from the stables, and head out of the small town.

As we ride along, I speak up, "We should head back to Whiterun, tell the Jarl what happened with the dragon, and the town."

He looked over at me grimly, "I'm no messenger boy. Let the Jarl's toy soldiers do that shit." His voice was rough and harsh. He looked over at me, his face softened, and spoke again, "Sorry," he mumbled "I have no interest in going back to Whiterun."

"As you wish, my thane."

* * *

**Three murders, she wrote.**

It'd been a week since the dragonborn passed through the pitiful town of Remming. Within that week, the town was shattered.

Two murders had everyone locking their doors and watching their backs. The inn was nearly deserted, and the market people were suspicious still.

Elsie the bar wench and Rora the wise were both found dead. Elsie was found at the inn, stuffed behind a barley sack in the kitchen, a horrified look stuck on her face, her eyes completely white.

Needless to say, the inn wasn't so popular after they found her.

Rora was found in her doll shop, in her rocking chair, the same horrified look, the same ghostly gaze. It only made it worse that a child had found her, and now that small girl barely spoke.

Now the shopkeepers and their customers travel with knives in their sleeves.

Yes, all the people of Remming seemed to be more careful about their actions and their well-being. All except for the lonely, bitter, drunken khajit known as Pol.

Pol sat on his normal crate on the side of a street, drinking his usual mead-water mix. He sat and drank and mumbled and cursed. Until, of course, a small whisper and giggle came from the shadow across from him.

He looked up, and saw the form of a beautiful woman before him. He couldn't see her face, as the shadow of a building shrouded it, but he wouldn't have looked anyway. His eyes were fixed on her bosom, which peeked out from her low bodice.

She giggled once and ran into the shadows. Pol called after her, or, perhaps slurred after her, before he stumbled down the alley where she ran.

And so Pol went deep within the tiny dead-end alley, thinking he'd get a quick lay, thinking he'd get lucky.

But the moment Pol reached the end of the alley, luck was nowhere to be found. From the shadows stepped a redguard woman. And one he'd seen before.

"Elsie?" He slurred, upon noticing the scar across her chest. 'Elsie' just laughed, and stepped forward.

"Not quite," her face became sharper, more angled as her eyes turned an unnatural gold.

A redguard and a khajit entered the alley. Yet a khajit exited the alley, as another lay dead within.

Yet no one ever heard a scream nor a yell, as Pol's drunken stupor of a life, came to an end. And two murders in one week turned to three murders in a week and a day.

_**A/U: So how did you like it? Please, please, please let me know! I really love to hear from you guys, and it makes my day to read your reviews! So why don't you fill in that lonley little box down there? ;) I'd really appreciate it!**_


	8. An Invitation

_**Author's note: Alright! so here's the second part! However I wrote Lydia just a tad out of character later on, you'll see what I mean, but I need to get some form of feelings rolling here, that and I've been reading a romance novel this week, and I feel like writing something like that in this story soon. Anyway here it is, enjoy. **_

**Lydia **

Hot water relaxes my aching muscles as I soak in the hot spring. In the last week we'd done nothing but wander Skyrim's wilderness and kill. Kill anything. Bandits, wolves, bears, hagwitches, and even your friendly neighborhood highwayman.

Killing is all well and good, especially if what your killing is a 'bad guy', but the constant weight of my armor and the repetitive motions of battle are very tiring. At least to me. Markus, on the other hand seems to have endless energy when it comes to swinging a blade.

I've learned much about Markus since we left the town, both of his fighting style and well, him just being him.

In battle, Markus is swift and quick. His feet carry him faster than a man of his height should be able to move. He'll sacrifice the quality of a blow for the quantity, striking fast and often. He makes it rather difficult for me, however, since he seems to pop up everywhere; he'll strike a foe in quick successions, and as they try to strike back, he leaps either around or above them, and attacks them from behind or goes after another target all together.

With him just flipping and sprinting around the place, taking care not to strike him can be rather distracting, but I can't argue with the results he gets. With him slipping out of a target's grasp just as they strike, they get frustrated, swinging blindly, making them vulnerable to attack, and that much easier to pick off.

In one of the bandit camps, Markus had picked up a set of well-crafted large daggers, and quickly made them into his weapons of choice, though no matter where he goes, Markus keeps a small, elegant knife in a holster on his right leg.

Sometimes Markus will holster one dagger and use flames instead, but it seems he only does it when he grows either tired or frustrated in the fight. I've noticed he likes to be in the dead-center of the fight, which makes it rather stressful for me, being that I have to protect him from all sides while watching my own neck.

While he loves to be in the center of the fight, he also loves to be in the center of everything else. Namely, the center of attention. We'd passed through a couple small towns to pick up some supplies like potions and food, and each time, Markus would make a spectacle of himself. News travels through Skyrim quickly, and the news of a new Dragonborn wouldn't go unspoken from the lips of those who'd witnessed his deeds.

The people spoke of a tall, tan, handsome man, and with that I can't disagree. But at each town we went to, Markus drew a flock of girls. Squealing, giggling, clingy, annoying girls. I don't know how descriptive the people who spoke of him are, but somehow, the girls are always there, and somehow know who he is.

And Markus is plenty willing to let them crawl all over him. I can't help but roll my eyes at the thought of his crooked grin as almost every female in proximity tries to latch on to an arm or his chest or…I shudder to think where **else** they would latch on to.

He lets them make over him, ask him questions of dragons, beasts, and adventures far beyond their city limits, and overall, he seems to enjoy it. But, after a while, he seems to grow tired, or annoyed by it, and begins to peel the girls off much like one would a leech. And then we make a prompt exit, mostly running from the towns.

And when we are in camp Markus seems to have a routine. He wakes up early, though still considerably later than me. Once he's awake he either jumps in the nearest pond, should the weather be nice enough, takes a stroll around the camp's perimeter, or climbs the nearest tree with a map to plan the day's route. One day he'd done all three, which effectively wasted the morning and a good chunk of the afternoon.

Usually midday we set out on our way and fight whatever crosses our path until he is satisfied for the day or we reach our destination, though we rarely set out with one with achieving a goal in mind.

Markus sits at the campfire at night and watches it burn. Sometimes I swear I can see tears in his eyes, but I can never be sure, and I dare not get close enough to see. We talk across the fire usually, though our conversations are short, and mundane, I make sure of that. I take heed of Irileth's advice, keep him at arm's length, and know it serves me well.

He seems to be bothered by that, though. He tries to strike up conversations, make jokes, and sometimes he tries to anger me, making comments similar to the 'crispy' woman. But I built up a wall not even he can tear down. I've made sure of that.

I take a deep breath, and submerge my head in the soothing hot water, letting every muscle be caressed by its relaxing powers. I poke my head back up into the cool, crisp air, I reach behind me on the patch of land on the edge of the hot spring and grab my under clothes.

I look around quickly, making sure no one is around to see me. With no one in sight, I push myself up onto the tiny island, and quickly slip my underwear up my dripping legs. I make a move for my bra, when a rustle from the bushes behind me stops me dead.

A figure appears through the brush, I grab my bra and hold it over my breasts, not bothering to fasten it. I then grab the dagger I'd brought with me, and turn to face the figure. Something is blocking out the face, though, as the form draws ever closer.

"Hey, Lyd, is this map wrong, or what? It says Windhelm is over there," Markus puts the map down from his face and points to the east. Then, he looks at me, his mouth hanging open slightly, his eyebrows point inwards as if asking "What're you doing?" But he says nothing, as his eyes look over my half-naked form.

Feeling uncomfortable, I drop the knife, and turn away from him to secure the clasp without drawing attention to my breasts. As I am doing this, I feel the need to explain, "I was bathing, I thought you were a bandit or something." Turning around, I am only partly comforted that he too is shirtless, and is looking back to the map, in sensing my discomfort, no doubt.

"Now what was it you needed again, my thane?" I try to end the silence, as I make my way to the tree I'd placed my shirt on. I snatch the light blue cloth off the branch, and throw it over my head.

_Damn, why didn't I just put the __**shirt**__ near the spring? Damn it. _

Luckily, he speaks again, "I can't seem to find Winterhold, on the map it says it's to the east of here," seeing I now have a shirt on, he strides over to me, "but I can't see any part of it from the trees." He comes to my side, and the nearness of his shirtless form hits me, drawing my attention from the map he held out in front of us.

Markus without a shirt on is something I could stare at all day. His build is tall and lean, but his muscles are well defined and in a word….beautiful. His abs seem perfectly cut, his chest completely hairless, just as his face, his shoulders look as if they have been smoothed from stone, and just above the hem of his pants, his hip handles dip in in the most alluring way.

Yes, Markus is altogether a man any woman would forget herself, and her morals for.

_ Unless, of course, they held a conversation with him. _

I look away from the tan, muscular form, and will myself to focus on the map.

* * *

**Markus **

I hold out the map, trying to keep my hands steady and not give away that I was shaking slightly.

_Her armor doesn't do her justice. Damn, Lyd. Were it only I came here sooner…_

Lyd confuses me, and I have no problem admitting to it. I rarely understand the workings of any woman. Especially her. Here she is, out in the middle of nowhere, with me. Not in some plushy, noble household, not married to some fishermen in a trading port, no. She decided to be a housecarl. But why?

I want to know more about her, yet every time I try to say something deeper than 'nice weather we're having,' or 'I like your sword,' she just says the same damn phrases. Every **fucking **time.

It's either, "As you wish, my thane," or "Of course my thane," or sometimes, "If you say so my thane," and even, "I am your sword and your shield….my thane." It's maddening.

Sure, it's better than when she gave me attitude after we killed the first dragon together, but somehow….it's not.

I like fight in my women, some ounce of spice. And though I have intention of….well…with the recent events this morning…never mind, but where is her personality? Her opinions? Her **soul**? Does she even have one?

_Of course she does… _

While she never shows it, she has spirit. I can see it. I can see it when she fights. She wields a sword and a hardy shield in battle, and fights with experience, determination, and wit. When she sees an opening, she takes it, and when she is tired, she fights through it.

I admire her fighting spirit. I admire her. Her strength rivals that of many men, as do her skills in combat.

But when the fight ends, and the enemy lies slain, that spirit is gone. To see that spirit….caged…even with such a beautiful cage…..I won't lie to myself. It bothers me. I'd rather have her openly hate me, talk back and all that, than keep it all hidden in such a plain expression on a lovely face. It just…isn't natural….isn't right.

So I tried, I tried to make her mad, piss her off just enough to get some emotion, **something**. I would make snarky comments that would make the most insensitive people cringe in hopes of a reaction. But no. She just shut it all away, and would say, "If you say so my thane." Sure, I'm still trying, but I'm losing, and I know it.

She's too damn good at suppressing her feelings….too damn good at hiding it all. And I can't decide whether I like it or not. I hate it when she uses it on me all the time…but somehow…it's attractive, in some frustrating, maddening way.

"It's a good ways off to the east, no surprise you can't see it from here," She brings my attention out of my thoughts, forcing me to concentrate on the map, she looks up at me, her blue orbs full of quizzical confusion. "My thane, what business have we there?"

_Holy shit, the wall finally speaks. _

I fight hard not to let a smile slip onto my face at this tiny victory. She so far has shown little curiosity to where we are going, or what we are doing. "Well, figure we'd just go up there, see what trouble we can stir up there. And maybe, if I have time, become thane there, too." And, with a wink, I turn to walk away.

"My thane," I really, really, fucking hate being called that, "you should know that the Jarl there is Ulfric Stormcloak, of the Stormcloak rebellion…?"

_Oh, fuck. _

During our recent journeys, sure, we'd come across stormcloaks and imperials all over the place. How could we not? I'd bet there's not an inch of Skyrim that hasn't been affected by the war.

But I made it clear, I don't want any part of it. The war, the fighting, nothing. Skyrim isn't my homeland, I have no business dealing in its political shit. Who should be 'High King'…? That's way above my pay grade, as far as I'm concerned; I'm just the guy that kills the dragons.

Not to be deterred from my new destination, I turn back and say, "Yes, well, that's where we're headed!" I look at her again, her short, dark, hair lays wet against her head, her near perfect hourglass form hidden under her baggy shirt. Even from this distance, I can feel her eyes pierce me.

"Should I pack camp, then?" She walks toward me, not her normal walk where she is weighed down by all her armor, but a smooth, graceful stride. She really is beautiful.

_Too bad she hates my ass. _

"Yeah, we need to get moving before noon if we want to get anywhere near Winterhold before…" She walks past me, nodding her head as she passes, I turn, and crane my neck only a little to look up under the shirt's tail.

_At least I get a nice view for the rest of my days. Maybe I'll get lucky and get some action before-_

"..before what, my thane?" She turns back around, and I snap back up straight.

My mind goes blank, "Hmm.. not-nothing. I was just thinking ….never mind. Let's just pack the camp."

_Smoooooth, jackass. Won't suspect a thing. _

She's a good ways away, but I swear I see a small, impish grin on her face. She turns again, and walks through the brush, back to camp.

And, well, I suddenly feel like a hot bath would be very…relieving.

* * *

**Lydia **

I nearly skipped back to camp. And once there, I couldn't help but laugh. The look on his face when I turned back around; his eyes were glued to my ass, even straining his neck for a better look. Normally, I would find this annoying, and bothersome. But his face was that of a boy looking after the first woman he really took time to **look **at. And honestly, it was kind of cute.

I giggle a bit more, but then rein in my laughter and put my wall back up for when he would return. I would act as if I hadn't seen anything. But the thought of his face…

_Nope. No more, focus Lydia, you've got some work to do. _

I first slip on some hide pants from my knapsack, then I saddle up the horses, and fasten their saddles on tightly. I then un-hitch the tents, and let them spill into pools of fabric before I curl them into rolls and tie the bundles to the horses' saddles. I turn back to dump out the cooking pot, when Markus walks through the brush, back into the camp.

His normally black, spiky hair, is weighed down on his head. Water drips from his hair unto his face, same with his bare chest. He walks into camp casually, and strides over to a tree near the horses, and leans against it, arms across his chest, feet apart, he practically radiates confidence.

I turn back to the cooking pot, and lift it from the spit it hangs on over the previously lit campfire.

"So, Lyd, why are you-" The sound of an arrow whistles by my ear, and I spin around to Markus, whose face is completely frozen, save for his bulging eyes.

"My thane!" I look over his body for a wound, his bare chest making it easy. But I see nothing on him. Then I look lower. Not an inch below the normal bulge in his pants, and arrow sat between his legs.

Looking down, Markus exhales an extremely shaky breath, and quickly jumps away from the tree.

I turn, and scan the trees for a sign of an attack, or another arrow, or something. But nothing is there. Not the rustling of the trees, nor the crunch of the leaves, or the snapping of twigs on the forest floor. Just silence.

I turn back to Markus who has since pulled the arrow out of the tree, and is now looking at a small white square that was shoved onto the shaft of the arrow. He looks up to me with a confused expression, he looks to the trees, and rips the paper off the arrow.

He unfolds it slowly, as if harm could come from it. His eyes rake through the lines. "What is it?" I can't help my curiosity. He sighs, his eyebrows point downward in wariness.

"An invitation," He exhales, his green eyes are dark and wary.

_**Alright! Congratulations! You've made it through this chapter! I'll try to upload soon, and I think I will because it's about to get interesting, I promise. :) Leave a comment...? Much appreciated! **_

_**P.s. Thanks for the comments, guys. Keep 'em coming! means a lot! :)**_


	9. When the Past Comes Back

_**Author's Note: Wow this is the most I've written in a week in a LOOONNNGG time. Feels good to get back to writing :). Anywaysss I wasn't going to upload this for a couple days, but I don't know, I just feel it's great the way it is. Enjoy! **_

**Lydia**

Markus eyes the letter some more, flips the paper over, and looks up at me. "Well, what does it say?" He just sighs, strides over and hands me the note, and walks to his knapsack, which I'd already strapped to his horse.

I look down, and graze over each word:

_Head north before you set off to Windhelm , you'll find a cottage sooner or later after you stumble about the wood as you do. I'll be waiting there for you boy. And don't act surprised to see me, surely you knew I'd come after you. _

The script is curved and neat, the words evenly spaced. I draw my eyes away from the page and look to Markus, who has since strapped on his armor, and is fastening the holsters of his daggers onto his sides. "Are we heading north then, my thane?"

He turns with a smile, and a half-laugh, "I suppose we are. How can we deny such a," he turns his gaze to the trees, and his voice grows bitter, "**gentle** greeting!?" He shouts at the tree tops, as if someone were waiting there. Waiting to see if we'd come. He turns back to the horse, and I retrieve my armor from my own.

We pack the rest of the camp, and set off north to the cottage.

* * *

**Hours later..**

The roads are winding, and thick with foliage, making any attempt to see a mere three feet in front of us impossible. The sun is just beginning to set, and Markus's frustration is apparent.

Just as I think he's going to give up and decide to set camp, we enter a clearing. A small creek drabbles to our left, and a hill sits to our right. The hill is also covered in trees and foliage, but out of the very corner of view we can see-

"Well, there's our mysterious little cottage, I suppose." Markus says as if trying to stall before heading up the hill. I hear him sigh heavily, as he lightly taps his horse to nudge it up the slope.

I follow him closely, keeping my hand behind my back, close to my bow. I hear a slight rustle in the trees, though I attribute the sound to the breeze that washes over us. If Markus heard the rustle, he pays no mind to it.

Another breeze blows, another rustle from the treetops. I gently pull my bow from by back, and hold it at my side. I scan the trees for any movement, and I do the same for the path leading up the hill.

I keep my eyes glued to the path ahead of Markus, when a male voice comes from above. "Took your time, didn't you boy? I was wondering when you'd show." I quickly grab an arrow and aim at the figure.

Perched in a tree branch above Markus, a large, hooded figure looks down on us. The figure wears a deep green hood that matches his light armor, which is detailed with gold embroidery. A wooden bow and a bushel of arrows poke up from their place on his back.

I steady my aim at the figure, but make no move to shoot. The man flicks his head to me, "Now, is this any way to say hello?" Markus turns to look at me.

"Lyd, it's alright," I lower my bow, but keep it in hand

"Now then, come inside, won't you? We have much to discuss." And with that, the man leaps from his perch to another tree, and another, until he is out of sight.

Markus sighs again, and shakes his head slightly. He gently kicks his horse's side, and trots up the hill. I follow closely. Once we reach the top, a small, wooden cabin comes into view.

All-in-all, it's a quaint little thing, with vines growing decoratively over the stone chimney which coughs out smoke. Flowers cover the ground, and stretch along the garden boxes under the windows. The cabin looks as if it would belong to some sweet old woman who makes sweet rolls all day and knits sweaters for her grandchildren.

_But, no. it belongs to some mysterious shadow who runs around firing arrows at men's crotches. Lovely. _

Markus leads his white horse up to the inviting cottage, and dismounts. I do the same, and he walks to the door. "My thane…?" My voice sounds distant, and small. I'm still unsure of this whole thing.

And I'm not partial to being cornered, should the figure have accomplices hiding out in the woods. I turn and search the woods surrounding us at the thought.

"Lyd," I turn back to him, his voice is confident, and calm, "Lyd, it's alright," he gave a small, half-hearted chuckle. "He's my uncle."

_Uncle? Uncle? Really? No. Uncles don't invite their nephews by arrow to the groin. Right? Right…..?He must come from one messed up family… _

He gives me a look of assurance, but behind it I can see a little insecurity. He's doubtful of what's about to happen, too. He doesn't know what kind of reception he'll get.

_Of course, I'd be worried, too. If my uncle called me to his home the same way, I doubt I'd even go. _

Markus turns back to the door, twists the handle, and pushes into the house.

However plushy the exterior looked, the inside of the cottage is just the same. Warm light spills through the small structure, and fills it with a sense of….familiarity, like you might feel coming home after a long journey.

By the fire, sits the man, facing away from us. His hood is down, and long brown hair cascades from his head. Two braids from the sides of his head are entwined into one at the back, with two small beads on either braid.

The room is silent, save for the sound of our boots on the floor, and the crackling of the fire. The man breaths in deeply, and speaks, "You know, your mother made me promise that, should anything happen to her, I'd look after you." The man chuckled lightly, Markus's face grew cold, with an undertone of…shame maybe, embarrassment? "Were it only I knew how difficult it was to keep tabs on you, I might not have made that promise," the man stands, and throws a cup of liquid unto the fire, making it pop and glow brighter than before, "divines know how she did it by herself all those years." He sets the small cup down by the fire.

Markus looked down, "She managed," he sighs again.

"I'd dearly like to know her secret." The man turns, finally showing his face. A man of maybe forty-five or fifty years, with harsh angles, and large, light green eyes faces us. Peeking out from his long hair are large, pointy ears. I force back a gasp, and turn to look at Markus's ears.

They're rigid at the tips….as if they are scarred.

Markus looks back up at his uncle, and smiles softly, like a boy who'd been pardoned for breaking a vase. The man spoke again, "It's good to see you, boy." The man's eyes grew glossy, but no tears did show.

"Yes, sir." Markus spoke softly.

_Sir? Since when did Markus show respect for anything? So the __**Jarl of Whiterun**__ didn't deserve the honor of being __**punctual**__, but this man deserved to be called 'sir'?_

His uncle strides over and hugs Markus, in a firm embrace. Markus is just a bit taller than the man, and with a broader frame.

_Is this a blood related uncle…or just a figurative one? If they are related wouldn't that make Markus a…a half-elf? Or is he a full elf? Or…or.._

My mind begins to whirl, and I decide it's best not to think upon that here.

His uncle pulls out of the embrace, and slaps Markus's cheek lightly, "I swear, Varius, if you ever run off like that again…"

_Varius….? In Talos's name… Who the hell is he? Markus…Varius? _

The man continues, "I must've run all through Cyrodil trying to find you, and here you are, in **Skyrim?** Are you crazy, boy?" The man's voice is annoyed, with a thick undertone of panic.

"It's **Markus**, uncle." His uncle's face turned sad then, and his eyes looked deep into his nephew's.

"Are you that set on leaving your life behind?" his uncle looked Markus up and down, taking in the sight of his nephew, whether he be Markus or Varius or whoever. "First the thieves guild back in Cyrodil, now 'Markus' here? You can't pretend that what happened in Valenwood never-"

Markus huffs at the mention, and speaks up, "Never mind that, uncle. Some things have happened, and I need your help." His voice is honest, and calm.

"Come on then, and have a seat," they look over at me, then. "oh, and this is..?"

"This is Lydia," his uncle smiles, and looks back at him, Markus continues, "my **housecarl, **uncle." The smile lessens, but is still there. I smile back, not knowing quite what to do.

"Housecarl, you say? That would make you a-"

"A thane, yes, uncle." Markus says, partly annoyed.

"Watch your tone, boy, and mind your manners." Markus breaks eye contact, and looks to his side, while his uncle turns back to me. "Now then, allow me to apologize for any idiot move he's pulled so far, divines know he won't apologize for himself." I laugh lightly and look down as Markus turns back to his uncle with a look of one who has been wrongly accused.

"Hey, wait a minute I haven't-" His uncle turns back to him then, and gives him a look of 'don't you dare say another word.'

"Don't think I didn't see that stunt at the hot springs, boy." Markus glances over to me, then back to his uncle, who is now shaking a finger in his face like a disapproving mother. "I had a mind to put that arrow a couple inches higher, keep acting like that, and I will." Markus closes his mouth at that, and I can ** feel** him gulp, which makes me laugh again. His uncle turns back to me, and speaks calmly, "Anyways, my dear, you can call me Terran, Terran Destin in full." Terran made a small bow motion, and put his hand out.

I place my hand in his, and he kisses the surface of my gauntlet lightly. Markus makes a sound as if clearing his throat, and the look on his face shows irritation.

* * *

**Markus**

Laughing. Really? Not five minutes in my uncle's cabin and he had the ice-queen laughing. In all the time I've spent with her, I can hardly get her to smile. And he was making her laugh.

_Well, that's just great. Thanks, Uncle T. I almost forgot how fun it is having you around. _

I mentally slap myself, call it 'minding my manners'. Uncle straightens up, and motions us to two empty seats by the fire. He takes a seat across from me, and sits with a huff. "So, boy, what is it that's happened?"

"I wouldn't know where to start, uncle." It's the truth. So much has happened since I've seen him last, it's all a little fuzzy, it all just blends together, like a dream. Inside, I kind of wish it's all just a dream. And I'll just wake up back in Cyrodil like nothing had ever happened.

'There are wishes, and there is reality. Better to live in a harsh truth than to die slowly in a beautiful lie.' My uncle had told me that once, and it'd stuck.

"Well, I find the best place to start is from the beginning." His tone is sarcastic, but I could care less. I'm just happy to see him again.

Last I saw him, we were back in Cyrodil, having breakfast. I'd left his house midday to fulfill a contract assigned to me by the Thieves guild branch based in Cyrodil, which was under the command of the larger one here, in Skyrim. I was to break into some noble's home, and steal some particularly rare jewels from her vault.

The noble's home was as far north of Cyrodil as I'd ever been, and I wasn't familiar with the area. And of course things didn't go according to plans. Because they never do. There were guards everywhere trying to catch me and skin me alive.

I ran as fast and as far as I could, through city streets, then deep into some woods. But I didn't stop. I kept running, and didn't pay attention to what was ahead of me. I walked right into an ambush set up for the stormcloak soldiers.

At the time I had no idea who they were or what they wanted or even where I was, 'cause I sure wasn't in Cyrodil anymore.

Being as exhausted, confused, and possibly hung over as I was, I didn't put up much of a fight.

And then I woke up on that damn carriage ride that'd taken me and the captured stormcloaks into the heart of Skyrim. Into Helgen.

Now I'm a thane of Whiterun and Skyrim's Dragonborn. And to think it all started over some stupid jewels.

I take a deep breath, and begin, "Well, it all started after breakfast…."

And I told him.

I told him of the jewels, the ambush, Helgen, Whiterun, the dragon, the greybeards, everything. Well, almost everything.

"….and then you shot an arrow at me, and here I am." I take a breath of relief, finally being done with the tale.

My uncle just sits and stares at me as though I'll continue. When he realizes I won't, he clears his throat, and speaks, "Well, it seems nowadays **you're** the one having the adventures, doesn't it?" He chuckles lightly. "If your mother were here," he pauses, I look down at the floor, "I guess it's best she isn't, else she'd have my head."

In an attempt to change the subject, I speak up, "Uncle, there is one more thing I need to tell you."

"Out with it then Varius," I shudder at the use of my real name. I turn to Lydia, to find her ears perked at my words, eager to hear what I'm about to say.

"Lyd, could you just, wait outside a minute?" A flicker of disappointment shines behind her eyes, but she nods and walks out the door of the cabin.

I sigh, not knowing quite how to say it. "There was a woman in one of the towns we passed through," I stare down at my hands, not wanting to make eye contact, "she spoke of my destiny, she knew I was the dragonborn at first glance, few people knew at the time, and she told me my future."

"Come now, Varius, there are fortune tellers all over, you can't believe what they tell you-"

"She told me you'd find me. She told me 'In but a week's time, you'll see Terran again, just follow the arrow, 'boy'.' She even knew you called me 'boy'. She knew you'd shoot an arrow at me, too." I look up, and give him a glare that I can only hope pierces that thick skull of his.

Luckily, it seems to have worked. "Go on then, what did she tell you?" His voice is gentle now, almost soothing.

"She said I'd get rich, gain land, fall in love," a quiet huff comes from his throat, as if saying 'see? Nothing to worry about', "and then die in whiterun in a gasp of air." I look up at him, and try to read his expression.

Shock. Hurt. Pain. He turns his head, and stares into the fire. He stands then, "We're going home. Back to Cyrodil, away from all this madness."

"Uncle, I can't just run from-"

"If you say 'your destiny' I swear on the divines, I'll kill you myself Varius. Now we're going home."

I stand. "No. **We're** not going anywhere. Leave if you want, uncle. I'm staying." Anger stirs in my gut, and I can see what's about to play out.

"Do you have a death wish, boy? Stay here and you'll die. And I'll not see the only thing I have left of my sister lye dead."

I sigh, and decide to try to make light of the matter. "I thought you said fortune tellers were all hogwash..?" His response is a hard slap to my cheek.

"Watch your t-"

My head snaps back to him, and something stirs deep within me. "Watch what!? My TONE!?" I broke off with an acidic laugh, "MIND MY FUCKING MANNERS!?" His face contorts then, into a level of anger I've never seen him reach. But I'm not done yet, "I'm not some fucking punk child anymore, uncle, I'll not blindly follow your lead. If I want to stay and die, that's **my **decision," I back away, making my way to the door, "just as it was **your** decision to hide from the people that killed mom."

I regretted it as soon as it'd left my mouth. But it was out now. There was nothing I could do to bring it back in. I almost turn away, and walk out, but he yells back, "I WOULD HAVE HUNTED THEM ALL DOWN IF I COULD HAVE! YOU **KNOW **THAT! I HAD TO LOOK AFTER YOU, VARIUS! I WOULD SLAY THEM WHERE THEY STAND, GIVEN THE CHANCE!"

Another flare erupted, this time in my throat. A huff of air left my mouth, and I smile, "But you didn't. You didn't lift a fucking finger to hunt them down. You still haven't. And what the fuck is this?" I raise my hands, and motion all around the cabin, "A fucking safe house? Are you still running, uncle? Or better yet, did you ever stop?" I turn then, and open the door. But I can't let it be, no, I have more to say, "That's the difference between you and me, uncle," I breath in the cool night air before finishing, "I'll not run from what needs to be done. I'll not hide from my destiny."

And with that, I rush out of the house, and run to the tree line with no mind to turn back any time soon. "My thane!" I hear Lydia call from behind me, and I run faster. Once to the trees, I quickly climb up a thick trunk, and jump from tree limb to tree limb, just to get away.

Away from everything.

Maybe even from myself.

From Varius Destin.

* * *

**Lydia **

I watch as Markus's form leaps through the trees, and further away, "I'll never catch him…" I mumble, knowing it's the truth.

I'd heard the screaming coming from inside, and I realized that was the confrontation Markus had tried to avoid. Yet from where I was standing, that being the outside the cabin walls, it sounded like he was the one sparking the argument.

I peek into the cabin, and see Terran in his chair, watching the fire again. His hands are resting between his legs, his fingers knotted together. I walk in slowly, as if trying not to wake a sleeping bear.

But it's no use, my armor rustles, and the elf looks up. His face is saddened, and he looks older than he had just minutes before. He softens his face into a small smile, but the sharpness of his sadness is apparent behind the façade. He reaches a hand out to me, and motions to the chair I'd been sitting in. "Come in and sit, child. I've a story to tell you."

_**Author's Note: So how did you like it? I really enjoyed writing this chapter, and I'm eager to write more. Hopefully I'll be able to upload another chapter or two (if I'm lucky) before break ends! Thanks again for the comments! And if you haven't commented, why not leave a nice sentence in the friendly little box down there? ;)**_


	10. The Story of Varius Destin

_**Author's Note: Okay, first off, let me say thanks for the sudden rush of comments! They're much appreciated, the more I hear from you guys, the more inspired I get to write! **_

_**Okay, so this chapter, as you can tell from the title, is all about Markus, and his life in Valenwood. This chapter is mainly a set up for the plot, and parts of the story later on. **_

_**Thing is, my story goes a bit Alternate Universe here, I think. Also, it might get kind of confusing, I tried to break the information up so that you guys can keep track, but just in case, I'll put all the details of his life that you need to know for later at the end in another note. Call it a new years gift ;)**_

_**Enjoyyy :)**_

* * *

**Lydia **

"Come in and sit, child. I've a story to tell you." His voice is low, and seemingly fragile, like anything could break him. I walk in, and take my seat near the fire. My armor pinches my thighs as I sit, and I do my best to ignore it. I don't speak, unsure of what I'd even say. Terran just looks me over with a sad smile, and speaks softly, "Tell me," he sighs, "how much has he told you? Of his life before all this, has he even spoken of it?"

"I only learned he wasn't from Skyrim a short while ago," I suspected from his behavior, but I'd had no proof of it, that is, until he spoke of Cyrodiil and the thieves guild's contract, "do you mean his life in Cyrodiil?" I ask shyly, hoping instead he'd talk of what happened in Valenwood instead.

Terran sighs, and grows even sadder looking than before. "No, my dear, this was even before Cyrodiil, and it seems like a lifetime ago." He huffs out the ghost of a chuckle, "But then, I guess it was. Tell me, how much do you know of how the Empire came to be?"

"I know that the Thalmor were the driving force behind the creation of the Empire in Skyrim," anger rose in his eyes at the mention of the Thalmor, "and that they are the reason the worship of Talos was forbidden, and still is. They persecute any who are accused of doing so." They're the reason we Nords can't practice our faith openly, the reason we must hide. The reason a civil war is tearing Skyrim apart.

"Right, but what do you know about the Thalmor? Outside of Skyrim, that is," I shrug lightly, I know only what they do here, in Skyrim. I know they are a group of radical high elves that take joy in making others miserable, and in controlling people…But not much else.

Terran sighs, and speaks again, "Well, they make their base un the Summerset Isles, among the high elves. They, as you have seen, make it their business to meddle in dealings that are not theirs. Long before my tale begins, all elves once worked together through a grand council. The Altmer, the Bosmer, the Dunmer, and the Falmer each had a member on the council, and the alliance did grand things for every aspect of elven life. The Dunmer provided the knowledge of magic and its dealings, the Falmer taught science and the workings of the stars above, the Bosmer brought understanding of the earth, and the skills of hunting, while the Altmer were what held the races together."

He huffs, shifts in his seat, and rubs his face with a hand. His skin is a deep tan, even tanner than Markus's. "It all worked well for a time, but the Falmer grew restless, they resented the Altmer, and thought the Altmer gave nothing to the council, and the council would be better off without them. The Altmer were the glue keeping the council together, and none of the elves dared go against them, save for the Falmer. They broke from the council, shattering the delicate balance."

"After the Falmer left the alliance, the Altmer became possessive, controlling. They ruled over the council, kept watch on the other elves until finally, the council broke apart, and the elves went their separate ways. The Falmer retreated into the dwemer ruins, here in Skyrim, became the twisted and gnarled creatures you see now. The Bosmer claimed Valenwood as their home, taking refuge among the whispering wood. The Dunmer went to Morrowind, and the Altmer to the Summerset Isles."

"What does this have to do with the Thalmor?" I speak up, not seeing the connection.

"The Altmer went to the Isles, but they didn't remain there long, they needed that power, that control over others. They formed the Thalmor, at first they were ambassadors to the other races, but they gained power through their connections among the elves, and became somewhat of a bully to the other races. After the first Nords had come to Skyrim, Talos had died, the worship of Talos began, the Altmer saw their power weaken, and they were determined to get it back. The Thalmor went to the Imperials in Cyrodiil, and with them, formed the idea of the Empire."

Terran breaths in deeply, "It is after the formation of the Empire, that my story takes place."

* * *

**Markus**

The cool breeze whistles through the trees, and shakes the branch I sit on.

I'd gone as far as the trees would carry me, far away from the cabin, far away from my uncle. I'd climbed the tallest tree I could find. And now I sit, just staring out over Skyrim's landscape.

From up here, Skyrim looks calm, peaceful. But down below these heights, there's no telling what beasts and wicked beings lay in wait for those caught unaware.

I don't know how far I've strayed from the cabin, and I don't really care. I close my eyes, and breath in the crisp air.

_"I HAD TO LOOK AFTER YOU, VARIUS! I WOULD SLAY THEM WHERE THEY STAND, GIVEN THE CHANCE!"_

The moon hangs lazily above me, and the stars gleam brightly. The breeze sends a rustle through the leaves, as voices cloud my head.

_"How does it end?" _

_ "…With fire, son. Just as it all started. With fire. Your last stand shall be in Whiterun, and you will triumph…. But as the people will celebrate your victory, they will also mourn your loss, for in the shadow of your glory, lies your doom. You will die, Dovahkiin, you will die gasping for breath, trying to cling to life."_

It would be funny how close it came to my dream. I would normally think something like 'Hey, after this whole Dragonborn thing is done, I should become a fortune teller-lady myself' except, of course, that there is nothing after this.

And it has to be fire. It all has to end in fire. 'Just as it all started'.

I can see why my uncle would choose this place as a safe house, the woods around it are thick, much like that of the whispering wood, and it reminds me much of Valenwood. I can't help but think back to it now.

_Screams and the crackling of fire fills the air, the heat is overwhelming, as I watch my life go up in flames. My mother burns across from me…Her screams….So much fire…So much smoke…. _

A loud crunching sounds in the distance below me, far, far, below me. I hastily wipe the tears away from my eyes, and off my cheeks. I listen closely, and hear the crunching again, only closer. And then another crunch, and another, each time getting closer.

I leap down to the branch below me, and then to the one below that. I walk out on a long branch, balancing my way to the end of its limb. A shadow on the ground races closer, coming from the very direction I'd come from. That detail doesn't escape my notice.

As the shape nears, I can see the slim form of a Khajiit, running along the forest floor, scouring the brush around him, as if searching for something. Or someone. His grey fur blends in almost perfectly under the pale light of the moon, I might not have noticed his presence, had he been a bit stealthier.

His shape draws closer, looking more and more desperate to locate the target of his search. His teeth are bared in either anger or frustration, small hisses escaping his mouth.

I wait until he's gone past my perch, and then speak, "Looking for someone?" The Khajiit stops dead, unmoving, for what seems like forever. Then, he turns, slowly….really slowly. Almost painfully so.

* * *

**Lydia **

I take a sip of the mead Terran had given me, and listen as he continues. "As you've probably guessed by the ears and skin, I'm a Bosmer elf. My sister, Nurali, and I grew up in Valenwood among our clan, we lived humbly, and we grew up slow. It was nice for a time, living among our clan, but when children come to the age of sixteen, they leave their clans, and seek out a new one. It's a rite of passage into adulthood, but it also helps to spread out the families, and make sure that no…connections form between two members of the same family taint the bloodlines. In essence, it's a way to ensure children born have pure, clean blood.."

He pauses and sips his mead, "When the time came for my sister to leave the clan, she was older than me by two years, she chose a small clan near the very edge of Valenwood, one by the ocean that separated Valenwood from the Summerset Isles. She would come back and visit sometimes, and she would tell me of how much she loved her new clan, and how wonderful it was for her there."

His light green eyes grow glossy at mention of his sister.

"That was when the secondary rebellions against the Empire in Skyrim broke out. The Thalmor had a strong presence in Skyrim, and struck it down quickly there. But the rebellion was far from over. A radical group of Talos-worshipping Nords vowed to strike a blow to the Thalmor, one that would inspire uprisings against them all throughout Tamriel. And they had a plan to do it."

He leans forward, and sets his mug down on the stone ledge of the fireplace, "They would travel from Skyrim to Cyrodiil, and from there, make their way through the thick forest, to the very edge of Valenwood, and there they would sail across the ocean, to the Isles. And there, they could land a blow to the Thalmor that would never be forgotten, and would, hopefully, spark a great rebellion in Skyrim, one powerful enough to overthrow the Empire. Once, and for all."

Terran gives a small chuckle, as if remembering a funny detail, but he makes no hint he'll share, he breaths in, and his face grows deadly serious, "Poor bastards were slaughtered as soon as they landed in the Isles. Didn't even get close to the Thalmor base."

"But how did they make it all the way to the ocean? I mean, I've heard stories about the wood, they say that the trees-"

"Talk? Whisper to travelers, lost on their paths, and send them in circles? Aye, they do. But you see, the leader of the group, Draener, had a special amulet. When it came in contact with magicka, it showed him the way through the whispering wood." Terran smiles, and lets out another chuckle, "But the fools ran out of magicka, and became as lost as lost could be."

Terran sighs, and his smile fades, his light green eyes growing dark, "Nurali found them while she was hunting one day. She followed them, in wonder. She'd never seen a Nord before, few in the wood had. She watched Draener carefully, and after two weeks of stalking them, revealed herself to him. She'd learned they wanted to reach the sea, and had overheard their plans to kill the Thalmor."

"Now, the Thalmor had less of a foothold in Valenwood, save for the roads they'd built through the wood. They still tried to control the Bosmer, but that's difficult to do when the clans are so scattered and hard to keep track of. But they were always there, trying to bend the Chiefs of the clans to their will. It wasn't unusual for the Bosmer to openly hunt the Thalmor deep in the wood, and vice versa. Bad blood still flowed between the two, still does, ever since the alliance was broken. I don't think that'll ever change."

* * *

**Markus**

The Khajiit looks around him, searching for me on the ground. "Up here," I call, suddenly unsure of whether or not this was such a good idea.

His head turns up, and his eyes lock onto me. He smiles, his teeth showing in a very unsettling way. I place my hand on my small dagger's hilt, and hope I won't have to draw it.

He just stands there, smiling. And, in a blink, he's gone. I look all around the forest floor. But there's nothing there. Not even a fucking mouse. "Looking for someone….? Yes, you could say that…." I nearly fall off the branch. A voice to my left, where the tree's trunk is, grabs my attention.

Looking over, the Khajiit is standing at the base of the limb that I'm perched on, holding onto the trunk of the tree. He's standing in the shadows, underneath the leaves, I can make out grey eyes, and grey fur with spots of black in it, he's wearing rags, as if he were a beggar. He inches closer, and I stand up, drawing my knife subtly, not wanting him to notice.

But he does. His eyes flicker to the knife, but that doesn't stop him from moving closer. "And who might that be?" I ask, as if I didn't know. I hold the knife in my right hand, moving my thumb anxiously over the smooth silver of its hilt.

He steps into the moonlight, and his grey eyes flash gold. I nearly drop my knife.

_My dream….the old woman...each time, gold eyes. The same gold eyes. _

"Come now, Markus. Don't ask foolish questions…." He jumps back, faster than I've ever seen anyone move. He's hanging on the trunk of the massive tree now. "Or should I say Varius?" He kicks at the thick branch, and as the entire thing shakes, I drop down, and grab the branch to hold myself on.

"Who the hell are you!?" I shout between clenched teeth.

"You'll find out soon enough." With another kick, the limb breaks from the trunk, sending me down with it.

* * *

**Lydia **

"Nurali guided them to the ocean, but she, uh, she developed feelings for Draener. And vice versa, or so she told me….." An edge surfaces in his voice, "Well, she did what she promised, she got them to the sea, and they used the wood from the trees to build ships. They set sail for the Isles, and as soon as they reached land, were killed…..Or at least…never returned…" The edge leaks back into his voice, worse than before.

"By then, I was about seventeen, but I hadn't chosen a clan, instead I'd traveled to Cyrodiil, and was making a living out of treasure hunting, and doing favors for nobles. I was making plans to travel, explore, and go on adventures. I had no interest in settling down, I wanted to wander, and learn all I could of this world we live in." His eyes drift, looking off into air, remembering his youth.

"But I missed my sister, my homeland. So I went back, to visit both. Only when I returned, neither were as they had been when I'd left them. The Thalmor had a stronger hold of Valenwood, and there were more of them there than ever before. Nurali was pregnant, and living outside her clan. The Chief had given her the choice to either be rid of the child, or be shunned. She made her choice, and I found her living on her own by the shore. Maybe she was waiting for Draener to return, or maybe she was in denial that he was dead. It makes no difference. She bore the child, and named him Varius Destin. He received her last name, being that she hadn't known Draener's."

He chuckles a little, "Varius Destin, 'different destiny' in the tongue of our people. Looking back, I wonder if she knew…" He didn't finish his sentence, but he didn't have to, his meaning is clear. He wondered whether she knew what he would become. A Thane of Whiterun, and the Dragonborn.

"Anyway, she delivered him, but she needed to go back to the clan, the Thalmor had learned about an elven woman, an accomplice to the Nords' attack. And they were turning over every rock and boulder to find such a woman. She needed the protection of the clan."

"She begged the Chief, and at first, her pleas were rejected, but with time, the Chief yielded, and allowed her to live among them, and raise Varius. But of course there was a catch. In return for safe harbor, Varius would grow to be a Ranger, a protector of the wood. Rangers don't live inside the clans, they make their homes in the treetops, and guard the perimeter of the clans' settlements. Being a Ranger is much like being a slave, in a way. They guard. Nothing else. They can't marry, or take a new position. Rangers are allowed into the settlements, but they are looked down on. Much like a beggar is looked down on here. Nurali agreed, but was heartbroken, knowing Varius would never have a real life among the elves. Still though, being a Ranger would be better than being dead."

I try to imagine Markus living in a tree, watching over a town of elves, and defending all that's just and good. Somehow, it doesn't fit. "Of course, he would be sixteen before he would have become a Ranger, and until that age, he was to be raised among the other children, and attend the lessons that the elders taught. Archery, climbing, trap-setting, and of course the customs and beliefs of our people are taught. But he was different, and everyone could see it."

Terran looks off into the fire as he continues, "He wasn't as tall as the other kids then, he was short, and stocky. Not at all like he is now. His ears weren't as pointy as theirs, either, and his jaw was more like a square. As he grew, so did the differences between him and the pure-blooded Bosmers. He didn't fit in, and he knew it. Nurali had told him all about his father, who he was, what had happened to him, everything. It didn't seem to bother him that much, but he's good at hiding stuff like that. Anyway, they were safe among the clan, and I'd left to travel, and explore like I'd dreamt about. Of course, I'd come back and visit, and tell Varius stories about my travels, my adventures. Sometimes I'd bring him back some treasure from my latest journey. You should have seen the way his eyes lit up, and how he'd look at me when I told him of my experiences…."

His eyes grow heavy, and he closes them, "I miss that look." I look down into my cup of mead, not wanting to look at his face, not wanting to see any more sadness from the man.

_How could Markus yell at a man that looks so broken…?_

"While I was adventuring, Varius grew older, and with age, he grew ever closer to becoming a Ranger. But then….the Thalmor found them. I don't know how they knew, but they knew. They knew he was a….a 'half-ling' as they call people like him, and they…they…" Terran breathes in, and steadies his voice.

"They came by night, dragged Nurali and Varius out of their home, and slaughtered the entire clan for hiding the traitor and a half-ling from their search. They chained Nurali to a tree, and Varius was chained to one across from her. They set hers on fire…." A sniffle breaks his sentence, "he had to sit there and watch her burn…I can't imagine…If only I'd been there…..He was only fourteen at the time…" His voice brakes, and I hold back my own tears.

Terran puts his head in his hands, and I feel like I should say something, try to comfort him….but what could I say? "I came to visit again, and I don't know how many days he'd been there, chained across from what was left of her corpse…but he was in terrible shape. He'd been badly beaten, and was dehydrated, they'd cut off the tip of one of his ears, a mark of one who has been exiled from the elves, a great insult among our people…I brought him back to Cyrodiil, but he didn't speak for months, and he seemingly never slept, and when he did, he woke up screaming."

* * *

**Markus **

The branch falls under me, and I push off of it towards the trunk of the tree, trying to catch it before I fall all the way to the ground. The Khajiit is just smiling that wicked smile, as if mocking me. I stretch out my hand, trying to grab the trunk…..but I can't reach it.

I fall straight down, but a curve in the trunk puts it just close enough for my knife to reach, I stab the trunk and hold onto the hilt with both hands for dear life. The knife cuts through the wood and slows the fall, but I can't hold on to the small, slippery hilt, and it starts to slip from my hand. I look down, trying to see how far to ground it is.

The small, dirt path seems forever away.

_Shit, there's no chance I'd be okay if I fall…_

I reach out my left hand, trying to snag a branch, but I'm going too fast still, and each branch just slams into my arm, sending sharp pains up to my shoulder. My hand slips from the hilt, and everything seems to move slower. Looking up, the Khajiit is gone from my sight. I turn over in the air, and try to brace for the impact.

My mind rushes back to memories….memories long since passed….but good memories, the kind I wish I could live again…

_"Mom! Hey, mom! Watch this, mom!" I see my mom look over and smile, and nod her head as I turn back to the largest tree in the whispering wood. Looking at it, I turn back to her, unsure if I can actually climb it. "Mom! Are you watching, mom!?" I know she's watching, I just need a bit of confidence from her. _

_ "I'm watching, Varius, go on." Her brown hair blows in the wind, her face is happy and sweet. _

"Mom…" I mumble as I fall, wishing…just wishing….

_I turn back to the tree, and start climbing. I get pretty far, too. But then I miss a branch, and fall straight down….I cover my head with my arms and wait for the ground….But warm arms wrap around me, and I look up to see my mom's face. She's smiling, just like she always is. She laughs, "You did well, little sprout." I hug her, and listen to her soft voice, "You did well." _

I open my eyes, but there's no one there to catch me. Everything goes black as my face is introduced to the ground, not for the first time.

* * *

_**Author's Note: Okay, here we go, this is what you need to know: **_

_**-Markus is half- wood elf, half-nord. **_

_**-Markus's father was the leader of a rebellion that tried to overthrow the Empire by attacking the Thalmor (who, in my little world, were the ones that made the main push for the Empire's establishment)**_

_**-Markus's mother was killed by the Thalmor when they learned that she was the one that helped the Nords reach the Summerset Isles. Markus watched her burn to death when he was fourteen ~sadness :'(~**_

_**-Markus then went to live with his uncle in Cyrodiil, where of course, he would later join the thieves guild**_

_**If I made it seems like all high elves are assholes, it was not my intent! I'm simply saying that a few power-hungry high elves are assholes! **_

_**Sooo yeah, I think that's all you'll need to know. Please, please, please, let me know if you did get confused, whether or not I broke the flow of info down well enough, and all that stuff, it helps me get better so I can write better for you guys! So it's a win-win for all of us! **_

_**On another side note, winter break is almost over, so while I may be spoiling you now with all these updates, don't expect them to continue like this, else you'll be verrrryyyy disappointed. (sorry I wish I could write as often every week as I have been during this one, but alas, the textbooks must be read) **_

_**Anyway, I hope you all are enjoying this story, please let me know how you feel about it! I love to read your reactions :) **_


	11. Author's note 2

**_Author's Note: _**

**_HAPPY NEW YEARS EVERYONE! I hope everyone has a great one! I just wanted to say a couple things. _**

**_ Alright, so my break is pretty much over, so no more updates for a while. I'm going to start writing a chapter ahead so that no matter what, I hopefully can have a chapter to upload regularly. _**

**_That's the goal, anyway. My New year's resolution is to update weekly, but if it goes anything like my last year's resolution….well, let's hope it doesn't._**

**_Sorry for the surge of updates lately, I've had a lot of time on my hands and I get excited to upload my chapters right after I finish writing them. I'm going to strive to do weekly updates until lacrosse season. _**

**_Just a heads up, lacrosse season is fast approaching, and I won't promise any updates at all during it. That doesn't mean I won't update, it just means that, were I you, I wouldn't hold my breath for one. _****_But, if my plan to stagger the chapters pulls through, there should be a steady rate of updates, even through the season. _**

**_Thank you all so so much for all your support, reviews, favorites, follows…everything. It really means a lot to me. :) I hope you all are enjoying the story, and of course, are enjoying my OC, Markus. I'm sure he'd enjoy all the attention. XD_**

**_Thanks again for the support! _**


	12. Voices of Reason and Frisky Blacksmiths

_**Author's Note: Hey everybody! Alright so I realized that in the last chapter, I wrote they were going to Winterhelm, that was a mistake! They're actually going to Windhelm! I've since gone back and fixed this mistake, so sorry for the mix up! Also, the point of view switches a lot in this chapter, just a heads up. **_

_**So this chapter really has no plot significance, I just thought it'd be fun to mess with Markus a little more, you'll see what I mean soon. ;)**_

* * *

**Lydia**

We sit in silence for a moment, Terran picks his mug of mead back up, and takes a large swig. The fire burns less brightly now, as if it had heard the story itself, and was dimming in response. "After a while, Varius seemed fine, but like I said, he's good at hiding his pain. Of course, then his teenage years came, and with them came trouble. He ran off on a frequent basis, sometimes he'd come home the same day, sometimes he'd disappear for days on end. One day he came home with Thieves armor on, and divines help me, I should have beaten him senseless right then. But I thought it was a phase. I thought he'd realize himself it was wrong to steal from others, but he never did. Sometimes I think he joined for a feeling of….Oh, I don't know….justice, maybe."

Terran sighs, picks his mead back up, and takes a swig. "Justice..?" I ask, not seeing how stealing could bring such a feeling.

"I know, it seems strange. I think he felt that in stealing from the Imperials, he was stealing from the Empire, which meant stealing from the Thalmor, in a way. Or, maybe he's just a thieving hooligan. Who can tell?"

We sit in silence once more, and I am suddenly filled with the need to find Markus, to look into his eyes and try to find the pain he's hidden so well. I stand, "Thank you for telling me all this. But I should really go find him…"

I turn to leave, "Lydia," Terran calls, I turn back, and see him standing, "I've told you these things for two reasons. For one, to protect him, I believe you need to understand him, where he comes from, what he's been through... And second, you have to promise me you won't let him forget where he comes from. Don't let him leave his past behind like he'd like to. Please, don't let him forget."

_How am I to remind him?! How does one carry out a task such as this? While we're traveling on horseback, just speak up and say, "Hey, remember that time your mother was turned to ashes in front of you? Wasn't that a treasured moment?"_

I nod, unsure of what he really is asking, but how could I say no to a man who has lost so much?

* * *

**Markus**

A stinging pain from my arm streams through me, and forces me awake. I flip myself onto my back, let a small huff of pain escape my lips, and look up at the sky. Judging from how little the moon had moved, I'd been knocked out maybe a half hour at most. I close my eyes, and breathe in slowly, letting the pain ripple through me.

I could heal myself, easily. But I don't.

I **should** heal myself. But I won't.

Not until the pain is too much. Not until I have to.

I close my eyes, and listen to the bugs chirp happily from their patches of dirt, the trees are whistling louder than before. I don't look for the Khajiit, it wouldn't matter if he is or isn't here. He could have easily taken a knife to my neck while I was unconscious, but he hadn't. So he wouldn't try to kill me. And besides, I'm supposed to die in Whiterun, anyway, so what does it matter?

_Still the gold eyes….What are the chances…?_

I push the eyes from my mind. There are more important, more immediate things to do. For one, I will have to go back to my uncle's cabin. I need to get Lydia, and we need to be off. I want to be out of these woods, and back into a city.

I peel myself up off of the ground, and begin to brush the dirt off my armor, but I stop, feeling a large hole in the center, exposing my skin to the cool air. My arm throbs, and my head feels as though it's going to float away. I look up to the tree, and see my knife still stuck in the thick trunk.

I sigh, and stretch my back by turning my shoulders from side to side. It hurts, but I've felt worse. Much worse. I walk up, and grab the lowest branch. I jump from branch to branch until I reach the closest one to my knife. I pull it from the tree, and carefully make my way back down to the forest floor.

_I wonder what Lydia's doing right now….Probably making friends with uncle T. _

I shudder internally, realizing I'll have to face my uncle again before I can get my horse, housecarl, and hit the road. I know he just wants what's best for me. I know. And I know what I said was wrong. I would say that I didn't mean it, but he's always trying to control me….

**_No, that's not right. He's only tried to stop you from getting yourself killed all these years._**

A voice of reason chimes in my head.

Alright he wasn't trying to control me. But if he'd just been there when the Thalmor came, instead of being divines-know-where, doing whatever he wanted….

**_But that's all you've ever done. And you can't blame him for that. _**

The voice speaks again.

"Ugh….just go away, would you?…." I mumble grumpily as I walk down the dark, shadowy path. I realize I'm talking to myself, but who else is there to talk to? My uncle? He'll probably skewer me when I get back to the cabin.

Lydia? She doesn't even know I'm from Valenwood.

_And I'll do everything I can to keep it that way._

* * *

**Lydia **

I've been walking down this path for what seems like hours, just thinking of what I'd just heard. With all that's happened to him, maybe that's why Markus is such, well, an asshole, at least sometimes. Maybe, behind all that harshness, he's really sweet-

**_No. don't you dare. Remember what Irileth said. Don't you dare let a sad story shatter your defenses. Don't. Stay cold. Stay unfeeling. Stay distant. Else you're both doomed. _**

The voice inside my head is right, I know. But the look in his uncle's eyes when he spoke of finding Markus, chained across from his mother…It must have been truly horrible…

**_Stay distant. _**

I breath in, and make my face as calm as possible, as I search for Markus.

I walk for what seems like forever, but as I turn a bend in the path, his figure comes into view. I run to him as he walks slowly towards me. My armor rattles, filling the night with loud, angry sound. As I draw closer, I see his armor is ripped down the front, exposing his once perfect chest and abs, which are now covered in bloody scratches. "My thane, are you alright? What happened?!"

My voice shakes more than usual, with both the emotion from before, and worry seeping into it. Blood is dripping from his temple, but after a moment of examining him, he looks to be generally fine. I look him up and down, and try to focus on the now. But I keep thinking back to the story, **his** story.

_Watching something you love burn...…everything you've ever known destroyed…._

A story I've heard all too often, yet still upsets me. The day we accept such things as a part of life, is the day we will truly be lost, as we will have lost all hope for a day that is better than today.

I try to hide the emotions stirring inside me, but Talos knows how well that is working out, as small tears from in my eyes. I squint, banishing them from my eyes.

He looks at me strangely, like he was taking notice of the change in my voice, the emotion behind it. I try my best to hide it. "My thane..?" I say, this time more evenly.

* * *

**Markus**

I look deeply into her pale blue eyes, made even more beautiful by the moonlight, and see something behind them. No, not something, some **things.**

Sorrow, pity, maybe concern too. The longer I stare into them, glossier they become.

And the wall cracks before my eyes.

Her tears spill over, yet her face is even, except for a quivering lip. Like she's fighting something inside. "It's nothing," I motion to the tear in my armor and turn to smile back at her, trying to pretend like I don't see her tears, giving her a chance to regain herself, time to build the wall back up. But when I look back, the tears are still running down her pale cheeks, making them impossible to ignore. "Lyd, did something happen?" I hate crying people. Hate 'em, hate 'em, **hate** 'em. They just sit and snivel and cry in front of you. Leaving you to awkwardly try to comfort them, or hug them, or….just stand there….being awkward.

But she obviously didn't want comfort, or hugs, leaving me to stand here. And be awkward. She turns away from me, and lifts her hands to her eyes. I ready myself for an all out sob. Except it never comes. She turns back around. As quickly as the tears came, they'd gone. And the wall is back up.

But it's clearly weakened. Cracked. I try to think of what my uncle could have said to upset her so much.

_Maybe one of his treasure hunt stories, probably the one when he was in the barrow, hiding from bandits, trying to stay out of sight by crouching behind a fallen pillar, when one of their dogs found him. _

And of course, the dog did the only logical thing it could at the time. Hump him senseless. And, in trying to hide, uncle T couldn't kill the dog, else he make too much noise and be discovered. He tried to push the dog off, but it just kept coming back. He never did tell me how he got away from the thing.

But, of course, when I'd heard that story, I was crying from laughing too hard. And she is crying from just plain sadness.

_Maybe she's sad the dog didn't get what it came for. _

The voice chimes back into my head:

**_Shut up you idiot. Just….just shut up._**

"What happened to your armor, and your head….?" She says, ignoring my question, and moving a piece of my hair to look at my forehead. I gently grab her hand, and hold her steel-clad wrist in my grip.

I could tell her, but I won't.

I **should** tell her, but I won't.

"Lyd, I asked you if something happened. Why did you…" I don't bother finishing, not quite knowing what to say.

Then, it hits me. I don't know how I do, but I know.

The dog never did seem too likely.

* * *

**Lydia**

_Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it! So much for staying cold, __**Lyd.**__ Good job with that. Nice fucking work._

His face goes deadly serious, borderline angry. His cheeks grow pale, and his eyes grow dark. "He told you," his voice is dark, and hoarse, "didn't he?" He drops my hand, and I let it fall to my side. I look down, slightly unsure of how he will react. I nod at the ground. I hear him sigh, and after a moment of standing there, he walks around me, back towards the cabin. "Come on, then. We'd best be on our way. I want to get to Windhelm as soon as possible." His voice is cold, flatter than I'd ever heard him speak.

We walk in silence. The only sounds come from the wind, the crickets, and the sounds of our footsteps. We reach the hill, and walk up slowly. As we reach the top, the cabin once again comes into view, only this time, his uncle is waiting on the porch, with his arms crossed over his chest, and a bow at his back. Terran's face is even and calm now, his voice is even as he speaks, "You're off to Windhelm, then, boy?" Terran eyes Markus's ripped armor, but says nothing of it.

He sounds as if they'd never fought. As if it all was some dream that never happened.

* * *

**Markus**

I walk to my uncle, watching for a sign of anger, or hurt, or anything. But nothing is there but calm. Plain, simple, calm. He always does this. Just pretends as if everything's fine.

_Can't say I'm not happy about that right now, though. _

_**Hypocrite. You've been doing that ever since you went to Cyrodiil, pretending nothing ever happened, that everything was fine, that **__**you**__** were fine. You still are.**_

I mentally curse at the voice, even though it's the truth. And I know it.

"We'll be off shortly, yes." The angles on his face seem to be sharper in the moonlight, as sharp as razors.

"You plan to traverse through Skyrim's roads at night? Not sure I would try such a thing, but if you insist," I hate it when he makes sense, "here, then," he reaches behind his back, and holds my old bow before him, "you left it in Cyrodiil," I reach out and take the bow gently, and hold it in my hands. "I thought you might want it back, so I brought it along," I run my hands over the carved wood, feeling the familiar pattern, the worn spots, and the small scratches, just as I remember them. "In the very least, you'll get good coin for it."

The thought of selling it sends a rock into my stomach.

I nod my head at him, not wanting to show my thanks. I quickly fasten the bow to my back, and walk over to the horses, not knowing what else there is to say to him. I mount my horse, and hear Lydia do the same to her horse behind me.

I turn my horse away, giving my uncle another nod as I go. As I face the trail, his voice calls me, "Variu-" his voice breaks off with a heavy sigh, I turn back and look at him, "just, take care, Markus." He turns back to the cabin as a sad frown covers his face.

_"just, take care, Markus." _

_Markus. Did he…? He called me Markus._

Something deep inside me snaps. "My thane….?" Lydia's voice grabs my attention, I look over to her and then turn back to the trail, leaving my uncle alone in the heart of the forest.

We ride at a slow gallop, along the dark path. I keep it slow, searching the trees and foliage for any sign of the Khajiit, but see nothing among the thick bushes. The Khajiit had made so much noise when I'd seen him on the road…yet somehow he had climbed the tree and ended up right next to me in a blink of my eye.

The thought of that is….. unsettling, in the very least.

The cool night breeze brushes over my skin where my armor is ripped

Lydia speaks again, "We should probably head into a town before we get to Windhelm, maybe get you some new armor, it gets quite cold there…." Her voice is soft, as if she were shy as it drifts off.

"Yeah, I guess that'd be smart, huh?" If I had it my way, we'd head straight to Windhelm, and not look back. But Skyrim's weather is a bitch. One minute, it's gorgeous, then, it spits rain, sleet and snow at you. And I hate the cold. I hate it so much… "Alright, we'll stop in a town at sunrise."

* * *

**Hours later…**

**Lydia**

I shiver at the cold wind, whistling across the open road. We'd hit the main road hours ago, passing by merchants and travelers alike, the weather had gotten colder the closer we'd get to Windhelm, and all the while, a sour look graced Markus's face, almost a pout. And all the while, Terran's voice had rung through my head.

_ "I've told you these things for two reasons"_

I look over to Markus, the pout-like face still there on his chiseled face. The sun had risen maybe an hour ago, its warm light shines down on his tanned skin, and into his dark hair. In the sunlight, it didn't look so dark, more like a very deep auburn.

"_to protect him, I believe you need to understand him, where he comes from, what he's been through…"_

Markus looks over to me then, and stares at my eyes, as if studying me. His emerald gaze forces me to break my stare from his face, and I look down at the road ahead of us.

"_And second, you have to promise me you won't let him forget where he comes from."_

A promise is a promise, but…do I dare bring up something like that…?

"_Don't let him leave his past behind like he'd like to." _

But where do I start? "My thane," I say softly, still unsure whether he's angry at his uncle for telling me about his life before, or at me for listening to it, "if I may ask, why the thieves guild…?" I look over at him, his face is still like stone, yet his lips are pursed, and his eyes stare off into the distance, as if considering the question a moment before answering.

He clears his throat before speaking, "I don't know, it seemed like fun," his voice hides a real answer behind it.

"That's all? I thought there may have been more to it…" I pray he takes the hook and continues.

My silent wish is answered, as he speaks again, "Well, I really don't know," he sighs, and looks over at me, "how much did my uncle tell you, anyway?"

"Everything, I assume." I hear him breathe in deeply.

He leans forward, leaning on his horse's sturdy neck, propping himself up. "Well, if I had to say why, I guess it would be…revenge, in a way."

"Revenge…?" I ask, prodding him on.

"Yeah, I mean, at that point, I was just….pissed off. At everything, whatever 'normal' life I could have had was stolen from me," he looks at the ground, his brow showing small wrinkles of frustration, "at first, it felt like I was getting back at the world for what it'd taken from me. And after that, I dunno, it was just fun taking from the nobles over there, they'd get upset over the dumbest things."

"What do you mean?"

He laughed softly, "Well this one time, I broke into a very rich noble's house, and took the stash of sweet rolls he'd just imported from Skyrim, he ran out into the streets screaming, 'MY SWEET ROLLS, SOMEONE'S TAKEN MY SWEET ROLLS! GUARDS, GUARDS, COME QUICKLY!' I got caught a couple minutes later."

"How? I mean, you only had to run then, right? I doubt they could have caught you easily."

"No, they didn't have to chase me, I never took off. I doubled over laughing and one of the pastries fell out of the sack I was carrying them in, and rolled to the feet of a guard, who was standing and watching the man flabber about, he ended up throwing my ass in jail, but I broke out the next morning. I heard that the man kept his sweet rolls in a locked crate afterwards," he laughs again, a sweet, genuine laugh, "the guards called me 'the sweet thief' after that." His face is sweet, his angles softened with his smile.

"Shouldn't they have….I don't know, tried to catch you instead of giving you a nickname?"

His smile grew a bit more, another small chuckle escaping his lips, making his adams apple bob, he looks forward again, and runs his tongue partly over his teeth. "Cyrodiil's different than Skyrim, to be charged with stealing there, the guards need to find the item that was stolen. Most of the time I'd drop of the goods at the guild. So, they couldn't do anything about it, even if they wanted to. Probably pissed a lot of 'em off. I'd be pissed, too."

"As for the nickname, I even had my own little fishwife saying about me." He adds, his voice sounds like a hum.

"What was it?" A smile spreads across my face at the thought of gossiping fishwives talking of 'the sweet thief'. He looks back over at me, his smile still there, and still shining.

"Tell ya what," he glances back to the road, where a small town is now in our sights, "you already know all sorts of things about me, tell me something about you, and I'll tell you the saying of the 'sweet thief'."

* * *

**Markus**

I glance back over to her pale face that had worn an enchanting smile just moments before. But now, the wall is back up.

_The day I break that thing down might be the happiest day of my life…_

Her smile is still there, but a mere ghost of the one she'd had on before, but in her eyes I can see the coldness that I'm slowly growing used to. My own smile fades at the thought.

I turn back to the town ahead and mumble, "I'll take that as a 'no'."

We set our horses up at the stables, and enter the rather large town. We walk down the streets, looking for the blacksmith's shop, but the further we go into the town, the more attention is drawn to us.

People begin to follow behind us in the streets, whispers escaping their lips. Whispers follow us like a shadow as we look at the signs of the shops lining the street. We keep walking until we reach a main market full of stalls and merchant wagons.

Nearly all eyes turn to us. I sigh, the attention is really getting annoying now. I hear two women at my right on the side of the street whisper, but can only make out a couple words from the noise, "Is that the-….-born? I heard he was really tall.."

"Couldn't be….-too fat." I look over, and see two middle age Nord women look away quickly. As I walk, I look down at myself, and through the hole in my armor.

_Fat…? What? Woman must be blind, I'm a lean cut. _

Eventually we come to the blacksmith's shop, and quickly duck inside. As we walk into the office part of the workshop, an Orc woman greets us, "Aye, there, ya' lookin' to protect yourself, or deal some damage?" her voice is deep and gravely, rather ….manly, which takes me back a bit.

"Err…Yes, I need some new armor, I need it made quickly, but not cheaply." Her grey skin contrasts with her red eyes, making them look as if they glow. Her shaved head bobs up and down, eyeing me up. Her teeth poke up from her jaw, and her lips form into a strange smile.

The blacksmith steps out from the desk, and walks across the dark shop to me. "Ah, armor you say? Light, medium, or heavy?" She asks, beginning to circle me, looking me up and down once more. Lydia makes eye contact with me, then walks around the shop, looking at the swords and shields that are laying out for sale.

"Light," I say quickly, feeling uneasy about her circling.

"Hmm…" she stops in front of me, but continues to stare with the same smile on her face, "nice, tight, build," she murmurs to herself. She lifts my arms away from my sides, and pushes them so they make a straight line with my shoulders. She uncoils a rope from her dress pocket, and wraps it around my waist. She then moves to measuring my legs.

"A bit taller than normal…." She stands back up, and moves behind me again. I look over at Lydia for a moment, but look away quickly, feeling a bit awkward at the moment. The woman's breath prickles my neck, and I hear a whisper in my ear, "nice, **firm** ass,"

Two hands then grab said _firm ass_, and I jump forward with a sharp breath and bulging eyes. Lydia bursts out laughing, filling the room with a chime. If I weren't feeling so…_endangered_….at the moment, I might smile at the sweetness of it. But then again, little seems sweet when my ass in a friggin' bear trap made of hands.

"I'll make your armor quickly, as you wish, any material preferences…?" The woman walks back to her desk, and begins to write on a paper.

_Yes, actually, I'd like the other half of my ass back, because it feels like you took it with you. _

"N-no, just make it with the best you have." My voice is smaller than usual, I clear my throat, and try to make my eyes shrink back to normal size.

"Very well, it'll be a while, but there's no finer blacksmith than I. I'll have your armor for you by nightfall, at latest." Lydia's muffled laughter continues, her face now pink with exertion.

The voice of reason chimes in once more:

**_Leave, now, before you get raped. _**

Lydia comes to my side, still snickering, and we walk to the door. I glance behind at the blacksmith, and see her leering at my ass. I nearly jump out the door, and thrust it closed.

Once outside, Lydia speaks up, "I like her. Doing business with her was a pleasure." Another snicker.

I laugh sarcastically at her joke, and let out a huff. "Yes, she was quite good with her hands, wasn't she? Maybe you'd like some new armor, too? Hmm…?"

Her giggles subside, "No, no, my thane, she'll need all her **handy **work for you." Never thought I'd see the day that walls make jokes.

In review, it's been a day full of voices of reason and frisky blacksmiths.

_Great. Can't wait to see what tomorrow brings._

* * *

**_Author's Note: Okay! So what did you think? I tried to make the last part amusing/funny, so please tell me if I succeeded or not. I'm not very good at writing funny things, but I decided to try it. _**

**_In the next chapter, we'll see Markus and Lydia arrive in Windhelm, and complete one of the quests from the game there, I haven't decided which one they'll do yet. If you have a suggestion for a quest, either leave it in a review or PM me. I can't promise I'll use it, but I'd like to hear your suggestions. _**

**_In the near-ish future of the story Markus will meet Ulfric, (okay, re-meet, but the first time didn't count, Ulfric was gagged) and a while after that, we'll see what Markus will do when the war comes to his own doorstep, so to speak. _**

**_Thanks so much for all the favs, follows, and reviews! I thought no one would like my story when I started this, glad to see I was wrong. :) _**

**_Please leave a review down there in that nice little box, and tell me what you thought of this chapter, I'd like to hear if I did make it entertaining, or not so much. I might or might not keep these little whimsical moments in the story depending on your reactions. _**

**_But what's a story without a good butt squeeze? ;) _**


	13. Fools and False Kings

_**Author's Note: Okaayyy, so I think I chose quite possibly the worst quest to use in this, it was wayyy too long to use for one chapter, and I didn't want to drag it out into two, so I chopped it up a good deal. **_

_**So in my opinion, this is a really boring chapter, and I'm sorry for that. But I don't have the energy to rewrite it all. (It's exam week) **_

_**I'll make it up to you guys next chapter, I've got something good planned ;) **_

* * *

**Markus **

We'd decided to head to the local inn and rest until nightfall, though I can never sleep during the day, I'd paid for Lydia's room, and she'd gone off to bed. I'd need her fresh for the rest of the trip. I'd paid for one for myself, but it's doubtful I'll use it.

The mead hall is small, lit by the warm light pouring through the two windows on either side of the room. A bard plays his lute quietly in the corner, as the still-sober patrons make small talk at their tables.

I sit in the very back corner, hood pulled up to hide my face, leaning forward to listen to the chatter around me. Bellowing voices of men hide the soft murmurs of the women. Save a couple of gossiping ladies at the table to my left.

"….saw him walking out of Guruth's armory, I did." A sultry, smooth voice said.

"Really!? The Dragonborn!? Here!?" Another, squeaky, high pitched one asks. I steal a peek over, and spot the squeaky voiced one staring intently on the sultry one, and the sultry one staring at me. I turn away slowly, hoping not to draw her attention.

"Aye, Lilli, the Dragonborn himself." The bellowing voices fade a bit, and I stare down at my mead, and take a swig. "They say his soul is the soul of a dragon, long since dead." All other mouths in the room go silent, all other ears are lent to the girl.

The sound of a chair being pushed away from a table sounds to my left, and I can see the girl's form rise gracefully. "They say he's quite tall," she steps closer, "and strong," I turn my head towards her as she walks, still careful to keep my head low ,"and handsome," she comes to stand next to my seat, I look up to her face. Soft, auburn waves frame her face, and blue eyes look down on me, a clever smile on her lips. "But I don't believe in the hogwash people say."

A small smile pulls at my lips, "You don't?" I ask, curious of her intentions.

She grins wider, "No, I don't." She raises small, pale hands, and pushes my hood back. Her eyes gaze down at me with confidence. "But, I'm starting to," she breathes. "Won't you ask me to join you?"

"Go on then," I nod to the empty seat across from me, and take another sip of mead.

She looks to the chair, before turning back to me. She reaches down, and hoists her well-made dress up to mid-thigh, and swings her leg over mine, straddling me in my chair. She wraps her arms around the back of my neck, and leans close enough for her breasts to rest against me.

_She knows how to play it, I'll give her that. _

I look to the quiet room, and as I do, the patrons turn away and occupy themselves with talking, eating, or looking awkwardly elsewhere. The girl in my lap giggles, emphasizing the motion of her hips against mine. "So, what **is** the Dragonborn doing here?"

"I've just come for some equipment, I'll be gone soon enough." She rocks her body forward, pushing herself further against me.

_Shit she really does know how to play it…_

"Well, then," she speaks low, "we shouldn't waste any more time." Her mouth is on mine then, and she's definitely wasting no time. Her fingers brush through my hair as her taste threatens to undo me. My hands roam her body, seemingly of their own devices.

**_No, no, no. Stop it. You've no time for this._**

As much as I hate reason, it's usually right. I pull her hands from me, and break the kiss. "Wait, I…." I try to clear my head, "I don't even know your name," I chuckle at the ridiculousness of this all.

She smiles, and leans into my shoulder, "It's Ember," she breathes, hot breathe prickling my neck, lips brushing my ear. Her lips trace my jaw, and then work their way down my neck. I look through the windows.

_Surely I have some time….there's still hours before night…And I did have a rough day…..And I shouldn't waste a perfectly good room…_

And how better to warm a room than with an Ember?

* * *

**Hours later…**

**Lydia**

I finish strapping my armor back on, the nap had been less than helpful, but it had felt good to have the armor off, at least for a little while. The sunset outside tells me it's time to be off, I glance around the room for anything I've missed.

Markus's necklace lies on the small table by the bed, the orange glow of the sun pouring into it. I still don't know anything about the odd language on the rings, but something about it fascinates me. I scoop it up, and place it into my pack.

I leave the room, and walk to Markus's. I almost knock when a giggle sounds from within. I listen closely, another giggle sounds, and suddenly the door swings open, showing Markus and a redhead sharing a goodbye kiss.

The redhead skips by me, giving a wink as she passes, her hair in a mess, and a red mark on her neck. Markus turns back into the room, his pants unbuttoned and hanging immodestly low on his hips. "You ready, Lyd?" He asks as he pulls his armor over his head. I notice a matching red mark on his own neck.

I look back at the girl skipping down the hall, "Are you sure **you're** ready, my thane?" My voice is more bitter than I'd like, "it seems as though you've made friends here." He smiles at me as he flips his daggers in the air before returning them to their sheaths.

"Skyrim women **are** a lot more friendly than the ones in Cyrodiil," he gives me a wink, "and **much, much,** more friendly than in Valenwood." I roll my eyes, a sudden disgust rising in me.

"Right, then let's be off to the blacksmith and then the general store," he speaks softly, "then we'll leave for Windhelm."

* * *

We make our way to the blacksmith's shop, and as we walk in, I can't help but notice Markus's hesitance. Inside, the Orc woman is standing behind her desk, writing something. She looks up, and smiles as Markus approaches her. She then lifts a folded set of all black armor from under the desk.

"You can try it on, if you like, got a room in the back for ya," Markus nods, and picks up the set, turning then to me.

"Pay her whatever is owed," he flings a surprisingly heavy coin purse, and disappears into the back.

After a few short minutes, Markus steps out from the back in his new armor. It looks much like his thieves guild armor, save the fact that it's all black, with a semi-hard chest plate. A metal shoulder guard shaped as a wolf's head covers his left shoulder, matching the blackened metal used on his boots and small parts of his gloves.

He spots me staring, and speaks, "That's not even the best part," he pulls up his cloth hood, revealing metal detailing on the hood's top. The metal shines against the cloth, showing the details of a wolf's face, all in all, he looks-

"Amazing, right!?" His voice is reminiscent of a little boy's, excited for his first sword. "I mean, this is…" He looks down at himself, taking in the impressive set, "this is pretty badass, you've got to admit." He pulls back his hood, showing a boyish smile.

He looks so much like a little boy sometimes it's hard to stay bitter. "Yes, my thane," I say, trying my best to stay sounding a bit annoyed, "it's very scary."

His smile disappears, and he rolls his eyes. "Thanks, I didn't think you'd have time to make something like this." He looks again at the armor.

"What did I tell you? Best blacksmith around. Do come back again soon." She says with a wink.

And with that, we head to the general store, and pick up a couple of cloaks to prepare for the cold of Windhelm. Markus gets a black one to match his new armor, and I choose a burgundy one.

We retrieve our horses and set off into the chilly night.

* * *

**Markus**

So, maybe it's been a good day after all. Everything is turning around, and as we approach Windhelm, I find myself feeling optimistic about whatever awaits inside.

It's still dark out, we'd made good time, and the weather has been clear, though cold. But the cloak is surprisingly warm, and the new armor is perfect. Though it does hug my ass rather closely…

We approach the stables, and pay for boarding. We enter the gates, and step into the city. The streets are empty except the night guards patrolling, but no citizens are in sight. "Well," I say, "this is boring." Not a sound can be heard.

"What did you expect? It **is **the middle of the night, my thane." Her voice has held a drop of bitterness since we left the inn.

"Still, I'd hoped for something-" A chilling scream echoes through the streets, sending the guards running. I let out a huff with a smile, "like that." I smile back at her, but her face is even and dull.

We follow the guards, and come to what appears to be a graveyard. A small group of people crowd around something, though most are guards. A woman in a brown robe sobs, while a guard speaks to the group. "Guards return to your posts, I'll take care of this," He holds his torch at shoulder height, and the other guards disperse, whispering amongst each other.

As they leave, I spot the corpse of a woman laying on a stone coffin, blood still dripping from her wounds. Three people remain, standing off to the side. The guard looks over at Lydia and I, and speaks through the helmet, "Move along, stranger, this is business of the Windhelm guard, I'll not have you interfering." His words are empty, his voice full of uncertainty and exhaustion.

I walk closer to him regardless, and get a better look at the torn, blood stained naked body. "Any idea what happened here…?" I kneel down, and look at the woman's cuts, finding them oddly curved.

"Not really, truth be told," he sighs, "I only heard the scream, came running, only to find Susana….just like the others…"

I look back up to him, the fire of his torch sends light into his helmet, revealing tired eyes. "Others…?"

"Susana is the third victim… We haven't had much time to search for the killer, what with the war…" Another sob breaks from the robed woman's mouth, as the other woman tries to comfort her, turning her away from the corpse.

"You decided it wasn't important to investigate murders in your own hold," anger boils inside me, and simmers into my voice, "in favor of a pointless war?"

"Pointless…? Ignorant fool, this war affects all of us-" anger rises in his own voice.

I let out a dark chuckle, and stand back up to look him in the eyes, "Tell me, what affects you more, useless fighting far beyond your walls," I point to the gate, "or the blood of your own dripping in the streets?"

"It matters not," he says, "I've no time to form a proper investigation, if you'd like to help, start by question those three over there, a couple of 'em said they saw something." He turns then, and walks back through the snow-covered streets.

* * *

**Lydia**

Markus sighs, and walks to the three witnesses. I look at the torn, bloodied corpse laying exposed to the wintry chill. Heat still rolls off of her, her eyes are open, her young face twisted as if she is screaming silently. Murmurs are exchanged among the four, the robed woman has since quieted.

After a few minutes, Markus turns back and walks over to me. He glances to the bare corpse, and sighs, his warm breath turns to steam in the air. He reaches around his neck, untying his new cloak. He gently covers the woman formerly known as Susana, before he closes her mouth, and shuts her eyes.

_He confuses me so. In the town where we'd fought the dragon, he'd called the woman….what was it..? Crispy?...But his mother had been burned alive. Yet he showed no remorse for her. And now he'd thrown his cloak over a bloody mess of a woman he'd never met. It makes little sense. _

His form is still bent over the woman's face, his lips move, though the words are too quiet for my ears to hear. Steam spills from his mouth, and billows into the air, dissipating in the chill. He covers her face with the hood of the cloak respectfully.

He turns back, and walks to me, speaking as he draws to my side, "The only one who saw anything was the man, says some guy took off running that way," he points to a back alley, "the other two just followed the scream," his eyes look up and down my face, "why are you looking at me like that?" I realize now that my confusion has seeped into my expression.

I quickly fix my look, and clear my throat, "I….I'm simply surprised is all." He rolls his eyes.

"Come on, then. We've a murder to solve." He points a finger to the sky in his declaration, his face mocking nobility.

"Tonight, my thane?" His face falls into boredom, and his hand returns to his side.

"Yes, Lydia, tonight. It's not like there's much else to do." He glances around, "There's not even any giggling girls to welcome us." He says in slight disappointment. "There's always giggling girls."

"Don't you think you've had your fill of girls for tonight?" My voice is flat, he smiles at the hint towards the redhead.

"Right, let's check the alley first." We walk past the three witnesses, and as we pass, the man's lip twitches into a smirk.

We walk through the darkened alley, stones scattered along the broken path, the thin layer of snow coating the path is untouched, it's clear no one has walked the trail since the snow fell. And it hadn't been snowing when we arrived. "Alright," Markus breaths, another cloud spilling from his lips, "either the killer's a ghost, they climbed a building and traveled by rooftop," he turns from the path to me then, his green eyes intense with thought, "or we're being lied to."

I sigh, a puff escaping my own mouth. "A butchering like that…wouldn't there be some trace of blood? Maybe we should check back at the scene, see if we missed something." He nods, and lets out a small chuckle.

"Well, look at you, you should be a guard after…."

* * *

**Markus**

_After you're done being a housecarl. After my time ends, and you're free to do whatever it is that Lydias do in their free time._

"after we're done with this." I finish, realizing my sentence makes little sense, but it'd be stranger if I hadn't finished at all.

I turn to walk back to the graveyard, as Lydia walks quickly to join me. "I was." She says quietly, little more than a whisper, really. I look over to her, surprised she'd said anything.

"A guard? Really? That's surprising." Her face scrunches in confused amusement.

"And why is that surprising?" Her red cloak swirls around her, making her look elegant, in a powerful way, though.

"It's hard to imagine you dealing with petty nobles," she turns to the road in front of us, a smile crossing her face.

"You mean chasing 'sweet thieves'?" she turns back to me with a quiet chuckle.

"Hey, there's only one 'sweet thief', all others are just copy cats. Only I am that skilled-" I take a step forward, yet no ground makes contact with my boot.

I fall forward, down a couple of stone stairs, and land on my face. Laughter sounds from behind me. I turn back, ignoring the new aches in my leg and back. Lydia's doubled over laughing, the sweet sound escaping her lips again. Only this time it sounds all the sweeter, for the lack of a frisky blacksmith.

"As you say, my thane," She speaks in between breaths, and walks down the stairs to offer me her hand. I take it, and push myself up, putting no weight on her hand, however. I lean down, and brush the snowy dirt off of my pants. "Though I bet I could catch you." I stop, and stand straight.

"You really think so, eh?" A confident smirk covers her lips, her eyes are icy blue and daring, the fire for once making an appearance off the battlefield. She nods, her dark hair shifting in the motion. "Well then, we'll have to work this out sometime, though for now, we've a butcher to catch." I look down, realizing our hands are still entwined. She lets go quickly, leaving my hand to fall back to my side, feeling emptier than before.

"As you wish, my thane. Lead on." I feel a smirk on my own face as we walk to the now empty graveyard.

The blood remains on the stone, smeared and dark. My cloak is gone, along with the girl. "They probably took her for burial preparations." Lydia speaks from behind me.

"Where would they take her?"

"To the hall of the dead, nearly every city has one in Skyrim. They're probably going to embalm her soon, though I doubt she has any blood left in her…." Lydia's eyes drift back to the blood smears. "The halls aren't hard to find, just look for a large, stone door, with engravings on it." My eyes drift behind Lydia, to a door fitting that very description.

"Well, that didn't take long." I say as I walk to the door. I pull it open with some effort, and we enter a dark, stuffy room.

Once inside, we are greeted by several embalming tables covered with sharp tools and linen wraps. The room is light by seemingly hundreds of candles, lining the walls. A hooded woman stands over a table where Susana lies, covered in linen wraps, the remainder of her blood dripping from her wrist into a large pot.

The woman turns, and pushes her hood back, revealing herself to be Helgrid, one of the three witnesses. Her face is wrinkled, and her eyes heavy. "Greetings, friends," her cheeks are stained from her sobbing earlier, "did you check the alley, then? Any clues?"

I shake my head, and her eyes grow even heavier than before, "I only wanted to know if you've learned anything of the weapon used to kill her, the wound didn't look like it was made by a regular sword, the cut was too uneven in its depth."

The small woman nods her grey-haired head, "Yes, you're right, son. These wounds weren't made from a straight blade such as a sword, they were made from an embalming knife. Though no one has any of them anymore, save for me of course." I tense, looking around at all the embalming knives laying on shelves, tables, and the one in her hand.

"Well, I have to tell you, that doesn't bode well for you." Her eyes fly open in shock.

"Are you accusing me of murdering these poor women? You'd be a fool to think that I-" her voice is rough and defensive.

"Calm yourself, woman. I'm only saying it doesn't** look** good for you, though I must admit it's a bit strange. Anyway, is there anyway someone could have gotten one of your knives?"

She pauses, thinking it over. "I suppose it is, though I can't see why they'd bother with an embalming knife, they're not very good weapons, it'd take a good deal of strength to deal such damage…."

"This just doesn't make any sense…" I mumble, annoyed by the lack of answers.

"One thing," Lydia speaks up, "I saw some small smear marks on one of the other stone coffins in the graveyard, did you happen to smear some blood when you were moving her?" The Helgrid's face twists in confusion.

"No, no, Calixto helped me carry her in. It's possible we could have just brushed up against one…"

"All the same," I interject, "I'd like to see that," I turn to Lydia, wondering when she'd come across the smear, "I think we've asked enough of you." I nod to Helgrid, and we take our leave.

Back at the graves, Lydia shows me the smear, which leads to another, and another. The smears lead us to small drops in the snow. We follow the drops through the streets, which are still dark and empty.

We follow the drops until they lead us to the door of a respectably large house. "Well, what now?" Lydia asks. "We could ask the Steward for the key, or maybe-"

I search through my pocket, and pull out my lock picking set. "My thane you're really going to break into a house?" After a few short seconds, I turn back around.

"Correction, Lydia," I smirk, "**we** are going to break into a house." I pick my leg up, and kick back against the door, sending it swinging open behind me. I laugh a bit, before turning into the house.

Candles burn around the furnished, dusty room. A blood pool marks the center of the room, I hear Lydia draw her sword. Nothing looks like it's been touched in ages, a thick coating of dust covers nearly every surface. "I guess we just look around, then."

I walk to a chest in the corner of the room, and Lydia walks to a back room. I open the chest, and pick up a book, opening it the pages are filled with notes. I skim through the writings, finding a common theme. Death, flesh, blood, and magic.

A sliding sound comes from the back. "Uumm…My thane..?" Lydia motions to a wardrobe. I look inside, where a false back had once been, the entrance to a room is now shown. I step inside, careful not to step on the bones and flesh that cover the ground. Blood coats the floor, and the smell of rotting flesh nearly makes me throw up.

A large table is covered with bones and candles, a dark alter, no doubt. Embalming tools cover the shelves, some dirtied with brown-ish, black stains, others rusted and withered. I walk to the alter, seeing a book resting beside a ribcage. The pages speak of bone marrow and magic. It's suddenly apparent these are no simple murders.

"What does it say?" Lydia asks hesitantly.

"Well, nothing good, that's for certain," I sigh as I cross the gore, back to the entrance, "something about magic and power, along with tendons and flesh."

"I doubt there's anyone in Windhelm that knows anything about magic like this," she pauses, "….except, for a court wizard…?"

"Well, Lyd, I think we've got ourselves a butcher." I hold the journals in my hands, being careful not to drop them.

"We'll find the court wizard in the Palace of Kings, then, though we should be careful of how we deal with this, we have no idea how powerful-"

"Yeah, yeah, Lyd, let's just get this over with," We leave the house and find the sun rising slowly in the sky. Though, the clouds shut most of the sun's rays out, the light seeps though.

We climb the stairs to the Palace, and walk right in. The interior is warm, and nicely decorated. A large table separates the door from the throne, which sits empty. Though a man stands to the right of the stone chair, looking rather bored. He looks over to us when we approach.

* * *

**Lydia **

The steward turns to us and speaks, "Yes, what is it you seek from the steward of Windhelm?" He crosses his arms across his chest, his strawberry blonde mustache nearly covering his mouth.

"We've discovered the butcher's identity, you can all rest easy now." Markus says as he tosses one of the books to the steward, who catches it frantically. He looks up from the book with an angered expression.

"The butcher!? That is a matter for the guard! Not some rabble-rouser such as you!"

"Yes, well your guard didn't want to be bothered with the task, apparently he was too preoccupied with your joke of a war to investigate." The man's face grows red under his baggy hat. "So, I did it **for** him," Markus cups his hand to his mouth as if whispering a secret, "this is the part where you say 'thank you'."

The steward huffs and throws the book to the side of the room, "It was not of your affair! You had **no** right to meddle in this!"

"Alright, let's try this again," Markus walks slowly to the steward, "it needed to be done, your guard wouldn't do it, so I did, and now it's done. I don't care whose affair it was, I still don't, and I doubt it'll bother me at night when I'm trying to sleep. So get over your stupid rules and try getting something done for once."

Markus is tall enough to look down on the steward, and he does so with annoyance, "Who are you to speak to me like this!? Some filthy street rat-"

Markus's laughter stops his words, "Actually, they call me Dovahkiin, pleased to meet you." Markus does a mock-bow, and then walks calmly back to the front door, leaving the steward standing there, mouth open, and eyes wide. "Oh and one more thing," Markus turns back, "even street rats have manners, I advise you make use of those prissy lessons you undoubtedly received as a privileged little noble fuck."

And with that, we leave the Palace and are greeted by the chilling cold. We walk through the streets, and Markus vents. "Can you believe that fuck-face? 'It was not your affair'," Markus's hands fly around his head, his fingers waving wildly, "excuse me for wanting to actually **help** these poor fuckers," he signals to a drunken man clad only in rags, sitting on a barrel outside of the tavern, the man laughs loudly, and falls off the barrel. Markus sighs, and tosses the drunken man over his shoulder as we enter the tavern.

Few people are inside, though all of them are sufficiently hammered. A particularly drunken woman sits at a small table, laughing by herself. Markus walk up, pulls out a chair and plops the man down next to her. "Here ya' go, you'll like each other." The two just burst out into laughter as he walks away. He then sits down at a table in the center of the room. I sit across from him, and listen as he continues.

"I mean, we did him a favor, right!? Doesn't that mean anything? Fuckin nobles and their fuckin protocols…" A Nordic man rushes by our table, leaving two meads. "You try to help them out, but no, no, no, nothing can be done without the permission of whatever little bitch sits above you." Markus sighs, and takes a swig of mead. His face turns sour, "Fuck, this tastes like piss."

* * *

**Fools and False Kings**

Ulfric sits in his chair, looking down on a map of Skyrim, cluttered with red and blue flags. He sits and he thinks of plans, strategies, battles, and his hopeful victory. But things of late have not gone as planned.

Key battles have been lost, necessary forts reduced to rubble. Yet still the people do not come. Still they do not fight for their freedom from the Empire. Still, they hide in their houses, in their cities, and pretend that nothing is happening. That Skyrim is fine.

Still, they ignore the call to arms he's sent out. Still they are blind to the Empire's domineering power.

Yet what could a false king such as he do? No, he needs something else, some**one** else, someone the people look up to. Someone that could inspire the Nords of Skyrim to join him in his quest for a free Skyrim. He needs someone like…

"Th-the Dragonborn!" a voice speaks. Of course! Why hadn't he thought of it sooner? He'd only heard recently of the Dovah's return, but already the people were abuzz with his adventures and good deeds. "The Dragonborn is here!" Ulfric looks up to see Jorleif shuddering in the doorway.

Ulfric stands, "What? Send him in Jorleif, be quick about it!" But Jorleif doesn't move an inch.

"No, no, Jarl Ulfric, I mean he-he **was ** here he- he left. I've made a terrible mistake I didn't know- he didn't look like- but why would he lie-"

"Jorleif, speak sense."

And so Jorleif spoke, some would say a little too much. He told of his mistake, told of the Dragonborn's angered departure, and all the while Ulfric's face grew more and more red.

"You fool! He could be the key to this war, and you insulted his presence and denied his help!?" Ulfric sweeps his arm across the table, sending the red and blue flags flying. Jorleif just stands and quivers. "Find a way to bring him back here, I don't care how you do it, but find him and bring him back!"

Jorleif scurries off, leaving Ulfric to think. He needs the Dragonborn to inspire the people. He can only hope it is not too late to sway him in his decision.

* * *

**Markus**

We finish our breakfast, which, fittingly, tastes also like piss. I toss the coins on the table and we walk out of the tavern.

"Where should we be off to now?" Lydia asks.

"I've no idea, anywhere but this fucking ice box. Let's go somewhere warm." She lets out a huff.

"The weather changes like the wind here, there's no telling where it'll be warm." Her eyes drift behind me, "Umm my thane,"

I turn to see a large group of guards approaching us. "Dragonborn?" Says the leader, his armor adorned with expert details.

I eye them with suspicion, "Aye," I thumb my knife's hilt uneasily.

"We've been sent to call you back to the Palace, Jarl Ulfric wishes to speak with you." His voice is muffled by his helmet.

"I've no interest in speaking with him. We were just on our way out."

"Pardon me, Dovah, but I must insist," The guard sways unsurely.

"Is this the part where you tell me this is no request?" The guard nods, his helmet bouncing slightly on his head. "Good, then I'll have no problem denying it."

Lydia speaks quietly behind me, "My thane, I don't think we should make enemies with him. Let us just talk with him, and be on our way."

"Nah, Lyd, that's not my style." I dig my boots into the ground, and steady myself. "Get ready to run," I tell her. I take in a deep breath, and… "FUS RO DAH!"

Some guards fly off and hit nearby buildings, others just fall over, and some unfortunate souls land in the manure heap. We sprint past them and out of the gates.

We grab our horses and set off south before any guards have time to chase us.

All-in-all, not that bad of a day.

* * *

_**Author's Note: Yeah, you see what I mean? Boorrrinnngg. **_

_**Like I said, I'll make it up to you guys next chapter, and next time, I'll chose a quest that'll actually be possible to write about. **_

_**Thanks again for the reviews, favs, and follows everyone! I have a week off of school coming up, so I'll get busy writing some actually good chapters. **_


	14. Songs With Our Stories

_**Author's Note: Hey, everyone! So, as you'll read in a minute here, there's a song in this chapter, I'll put the link on my profile, the song is 'The Wicked Sister' by Meav. **_

_**I don't own the song, or any of the lyrics, I just thought it was a neat song, so I decided to put it in. **_

_**I only used part of the song, but like I said I'll leave the link for you guys to listen to it.**_

* * *

**A few days After Windhelm...**

**Lydia **

A voice wakes me from my sleep, a humming, masculine voice. The morning's light seeps into my tent, illuminating it with golden light. I peek out of the tent, careful not to make much movement. Markus is sitting on a tree stump, sharpening his knife with a sharpening rock.

The scraping of his small knife on the stone interrupts his singing, but he doesn't seem to mind, as he whistles a quick tune, and begins a new song:

_ "A mother lived by the North sea shore,_

_ Daughters were the babes she bore, _

_ One grew radiant as the sun, _

_ Darkly grew the elder one, _

_ A knight came riding to their door, _

_ He'd traveled far to be their wooer,_

_ He courted both with gold and rings,_

_ But loved the younger o'er all things," _

He sings slightly out of tune, in a sweet way, the song being too high for his low voice. He wears a plain white shirt, and hide pants tucked in sloppily to his boots. His hair is a mess, a small smile on his lips, the innocence of him in this moment is surprisingly….adorable. I open the tent a tad more, to get a better look at his relaxed posture as he continues to sing:

_" 'Sister, won't you walk with me,_

_ To watch the ships sail o'er the sea?' _

_ As they walked the rocky shore, _

_ The dark one pushed her sister o'er,_

_ 'Sister, sister, let me live,_

_ All that's mine I'll surely give,' _

_ 'Thy bridegroom I will take and more,_

_ But thou shalt never come ashore' "_

My voice speaks without my permission, "Isn't that a bit morbid for the morning?" His head pokes up, and he spots me through the slit in the tent. He smiles and looks back to his knife.

"I suppose it is, but I like this song." I rest my head in my hand and watch as he drags the metal across the stone with precision.

"So does the younger sister die?" He looks back over, his teeth shining behind his small, sly, smile.

"Indeed, she does," his eyes glisten in the sunlight, "but she makes it known in the end that her sister killed her."

"How, though? She's dead, isn't she?"

"Well, it sounds much better in the song but-"

"Won't you sing it, then, my thane?" His smile is small, and he parts his lips as if to answer, but a roar sounds from above us. I jump out of my tent, and see a dragon circling above. I snatch my armor from the ground and strap it over my undershirt and hide pants as quickly as I can.

Behind me, Markus snatches his own armor and pulls it over his shirt, quickly grabbing his sharpened daggers, and fastening his bow and quiver to his back. "Come on, Lyd, we can't have it killing the horses, we'll have to lure it away from camp!" He waves his hand into the woods that surround us, and takes off into them. I follow him closely, my shield slamming against my armor, making a loud banging sound with every stride I take.

The dragon follows closely overhead, as we draw into a clearing. The dragon circles, before diving straight down, aiming for us. I roll left, Markus rolls right, and the dragon lands between us. Its brown scales are thick and rough, and it lets out another roar as it turns to face Markus.

* * *

**Markus **

The beast roars, but behind the roar I can hear words…as if they're hidden behind the overbearing cry.

_"Your time ends now, Dovah. Prepare for your death." _

The words are clear in my mind, and the dragon lifts a massive claw and swipes at me. I jump over the claw, pushing off on the beast's swiping hand as it passes, and dig my daggers deep into its shoulder, using them as ice picks to climb up the dragon's arm. I make it to the neck, and stand, deciding where would be the best place to start attacking.

At that moment, the dragon shakes its head, forcing me down to my knees to avoid falling off. Its wings spread, and its legs push off the ground. "Oh, FUCK NO!" I stab my daggers into the sides of its neck, and hug close to its neck in an attempt to **not **fall to my death.

* * *

**Lydia **

The dragon takes off, and I'm left feeling useless, looking on as Markus is taken up into the thin clouds screaming, "LYDIA, KILL THIS FUCKING THING! HOLY SHIT NO!" Markus's bow and arrows fall from the sky, landing across the meadow. I grab the bow, and take aim as the dragon zips into and out of my view.

Markus's screams can be heard only when the dragon comes close enough, and cuss words spew from his mouth with every pass the dragon makes. I take careful aim, in an attempt to avoid hitting Markus, the bow seems to guide my aim, gently sweeping my hands to the dragon's flying form. But with each time the dragon nears, I only have a moment to take aim and fire, and after a badly placed arrow, Markus begins screaming again. "LYD, YOU'RE HITTING **ME**! NO MORE-" the dragon flies off, then returns a moment later, "NO MORE FUCKING ARROWS!"

* * *

**Markus**

My stomach turns, and my head hurts from the loudness of my own screaming. But most of all, my rib hurts with the arrow that is now nicely planted deep in it. I realize the only chance I have of making the dragon land is to actually hurt it, instead of waiting it out as I'd have liked to.

I draw one of my daggers out of the dragon's neck, feeling far too uneasy. I plant it further along the neck, moving closer to the head, I do the same with the other dagger. I climb further to the head, and when I reach it, drive both of my daggers deep, under the link between the neck and the skull, and twist them roughly.

The dragon roars out in pain, and shakes its head, forcing me to hold on for dear life. It takes me a moment for me to realize we're spiraling down back into the clearing, with Lydia below.

The impact throws me from the dragon, and I hit the trunk of a tree. One of my daggers is in my hand, but the other is still embedded in the dragon's scales.

My back stings from the impact with the trunk, and my rib throbs from the arrow still sticking out of me. I break the arrow's shaft in half, and snap my fingers, striking a fire into my palm. Lydia strikes at the downed dragon, still recovering from the fall. I run to its head and burn its eyes, and the beast lets out a wail, shaking its head in hope of relief.

I look over at Lydia, and it's as if a message is shared between us, I go back to scorching the dragon's eyes, while she ducks beneath the dragon's soft underbelly, and stabs her sword into the underside of the neck's base and pulls the blade down as far as she can across dragon's abdomen.

Blood gushes out of the neck, and guts fall on top of Lydia from its stomach. The dragon collapses in a fit of wails and roars, but as the blood flows out of its body, the wails are silenced, and I run to find Lyd, and pull her from underneath the dragon's body.

I cut up into the dragon's ribs, giving me more room to see under it. A hand reaches out from between bloody innards, and I hoist Lydia out of the mess.

Her face is coated in blood, making her blue eyes stand out all the more. Her black hair is slick against her head, and what appears to be an intestine is wrapped around her shoulder. Her once silver colored armor is now turned pink in its bloody coating, and her body shakes from disgust.

I try to make light of the situation. "ummm…On the bright side, I've never seen a woman look so lovely covered in….well, never you mind about that…" I give an awkward smile, and she closes her eyes.

"Something's moving in my boot." She says quietly. She shudders at the movement, opens her eyes, and pulls the intestine off of her armor, shivering as it hits the ground.

"Here," I say, as I use my hands to brush the blood from her cheeks, suddenly glad I didn't have time to bring my gloves, "there's Lyd." I give a half-smile, unsure of whether or not my attempt at helping was really all that helpful.

"On another note, from my **fantastic **view up there, I saw that there's a nice river over there," I point to the spot, blood dripping from my hand, "it's even got a waterfall. That'll cheer you up, Lyd." Her demeanor changes, a slightly lighter look on her face than before.

"Which way again?" I point again to the spot, and she walks slowly by me in the river's direction.

"Be right there," I say as she walks, I turn and climb up the dragon's neck, grabbing my dagger from its head, and jump down to pick up my bow from the ground a few feet away. The arrow in my side stings, but it's not very deep, thanks to the new armor, though I might need to do a small patch up job. As I start to run to her, a familiar feeling returns.

I turn back, and see the dragon's flesh incinerating as the other dragons had, only this time, a red light encircles me, as the pain takes hold. The pain centers around the wound from the arrow, making it sting worse than ever before. I lean over, placing my hands on my knees, finding it hard to breathe just as before, with the other dragon souls.

My head spins as the red light is pulled into me, and the pain dissipates. Mostly. The wound from the arrow is still stinging, but to heal it, I'll need to pull it out first, and that's not something I want to do in the middle of the woods.

I look up to find Lydia rushing over to me with a worried look. I stand up, and speak, "I'm fine, I'm fine."

* * *

**Lydia **

His eyes are dark red, the same shade of the dragon's soul had been as it was drawn into him. I almost say something about it, but he closes his eyes, and when opens them again, they are as green as ever. His words say he's fine, but his face is strained, and his hand clutches his ribs, where a small fragment of an arrow's shaft sticks out. "My thane, you're-" he stands, and holds out a hand to stop me.

"I know, Lyd. You missed, remember?" He says with a semi-pained smirk, and a huff of breath. "I'll be fine, just need a place to sit and pull it out. Let's go the river, I'll do it there." He walks by me slowly, with a pained smile on his lips, his teeth showing behind it. "Next town we get to, you're getting archery lessons,"

I follow him, a bit annoyed by that comment. "My archery is fine, my thane, I assure you. I was taught by the finest archers in Whiterun." We walk along the forest floor, through the shade of the trees, listening to the birds call out above us.

I ignore the squishing in my boots as we walk, attempting to hide my disgust. "The best, you say? Well, even the best have a lot to learn, it seems." He turns back and gives me a mocking smile, his face illuminated by the sun peeking through the shade of the canopy of leaves above us.

"So let's see your skills, my thane." He shakes his head and turns back to the forest ahead. "What, you won't teach me, then?"

"I haven't used my bow since, well, in quite some time…..I doubt I could teach you much when I'd have to re-learn it myself." I look at the carved, elegant bow at his back. A patter of trees and vines wind around it, a Bosmer bow, no doubt. I've heard stories of the Bosmer's craftsmanship; they say the wood they use to make their bows is blessed by the Divines themselves. When I had pulled back the bowstring, my aim seemed to be guided by some unseen force.

_And yet, I still missed. Impressive, Lydia, maybe it __**is **__time for some more practice. _

"Yet, you carry it around everywhere you go….?" He slows his pace, allowing me to walk by his side.

"I carry a lot of things everywhere I go." He draws his silver knife from its holster on his leg, and holds it before me, "I've got my knife," he points to his back, "my bow," he motions to me, "my housecarl," he smiles jokingly, as he turns back to the forest, which is beginning to thin before us, the sound of the waterfall guiding us through it. His smile fades, as his hand lifts to his neck, and his eyes close briefly.

_His necklace...he must think he lost it….I should really give it back._

We step out from under the shade of the trees, and find ourselves along the riverbank. A waterfall pours into the river, sending rushing waters among the rocks that line the bank. Numerous colorful flowers line the water's edge, inviting onlookers, yet thick, green trees hide this oasis from view. Were it not for Markus's little ride, we'd have surely missed it.

Markus bends down to the water, and rinses his blood stained hands. "Ehh, it's pretty cold," he throws some water on his face, and then stands, "but I guess it's better to be cold and clean than warm and bloody, right?" I nod, still in awe of the sheer beauty of the forgotten oasis.

Markus gently unstraps his armor as he continues, "Right, so if you hop under the waterfall, it should clean you right off," my attention snaps back to him, and I nod again, and walk by him along the water, until I come to a series of rocks sticking above the water that lead to the waterfall.

I unstrap the heavy metal plating, and drop it on the ground. Running it under straight water will only make it rust, I'll need to wipe it clean. Under my armor, my once blue tunic is now purple from the blood, my hide pants are a deep brown. I leap from rock to rock, until I reach the fall.

Cold water hits the rocks, sending cold droplets flying on me. I shudder; the water is frigid, as I step into the falling stream.

* * *

**Markus**

I pull the armor and under shirt over my head, careful not to touch the arrow. As I toss my shirt to the ground, and I realize the arrow is deeper than I'd thought. A dried pool of blood sticks around it, as fresh drops spill from the wound. I sit against the trunk of a tree by the water; I breathe in, and hold my breath while looking at the sky, gently tugging at the arrow's shaft.

As I do, a snap comes from the arrow, and a sharp pain throbs from the wound. I look down and see the arrow's shaft has been removed, but the arrow's steel head hasn't. "Shit," I mumble, realizing this is gonna be a bitch to remove.

I get up, and sit by the water's edge. I pull my silver knife from its holder, and bring flames into the palm of my other hand. I run small flames along the metal, allowing it to heat. Healing or no healing, if the wound gets infected from a dirty blade, it'll only get worse. I stop the flames, and look down to the bloody wound.

I stick the tip of the blade into the cut, the hot metal making a hissing sound as it touches my skin. I speak through clenched teeth, "Oh shit, no happy thoughts, happy thoughts," I stick the blade in further, searching for the tip of the arrow.

_Happy thoughts, heavy coin purses and treasure, and fair maidens, and warm places, nope there's no knife in me…nope, nope, nope, everything's fine…._

The tip of my knife hits something solid, and I tilt the blade's tip up, bringing the arrow's head closer to the open cut. I reach in carefully, and pull the small steel point from my side. Blood spills from the wound, and runs down my side, leaving an eerie warm trail where it touches.

I toss the head to the side, and orange light spins around my hand. I touch my hand over the wound, and shudder as I feel my skin being mended together. My skin is pulled back into place, as the light dulls away from my hand.

I sigh, and lay back on the damp ground, looking up at the clear, sunny sky, and the canopy of trees from the forest behind me. The beauty of this place reminds me of Valenwood in so many different ways. The only things that are missing are the Thalmor watchdogs, and the sometimes unbearably hot, humid weather.

Birds chirp above me, the water hums in front of me, and the sound of distant footsteps echoes behind me.

_It seems like a lot of people are following me recently._

* * *

**Lydia **

I toss off the heavy, damp, blue shirt, and scrub my skin with my palms. I still have my bra on, and I dare not remove it, with Markus only a little ways down the bank. I leave my hide pants on, hoping they wash off a bit more. Most of the blood is gone, but my skin somehow still feels thick with it.

The sound of footsteps on stones catches my attention, and I look over to see Markus jumping along the rocks in the river, to the waterfall. He looks like he's rushing, with his armor top and bow clutched in one hand, and with the other he waves me back.

He lands under the waterfall beside me, the water rinsing over him. "My thane, what is it-"His palm covers my mouth, cutting me off. He pushes me back, underneath the water, and against a solid, rocky wall. The water flows over our heads, but the rockface's overhang prevents it from washing over us.

My eyes bulge, wondering what the hell he thinks he's doing. I try to speak, but his hand keeps my mouth closed, and my words come out as gurgles in my throat. His head is turned back to where he once sat on the bank, and he stares at it intensely.

Water coats his body, small drops running down from his hair and running along his brow, nose and lips. His nearness sends waves of his scent in my direction. An earthy smell lingers on his tan skin, something fresh and rugged. His body encloses me against the rock behind me, heat rolls off his form, warming the cold sting left on my body by the water's touch.

I reach up and try to rip his hand from my mouth, and he speaks, "Shhh… Lyd, you need to be quiet." He looks back to me, searching my eyes for my understanding of his words. I nod my head, and he releases my mouth. He kneels close to the ground, with one hand in front of him to keep him steady as he watches. He looks like a hunter, waiting for movement in the brush.

I squat low beside him, and follow his gaze to the bank. We sit there for a moment, but nothing happens. His gaze is just as attentive as before, his patience and determination evident in his emerald stare.

Just as I am about to speak, a rustling comes from the forest, and a small figure steps out.

The form **is** small, **very** small. The figure is definitely a woman, wearing jade green armor with gold detailing. Her helmet is gold, and clearly of elven make. She carries two golden daggers at either hips, and a gold staff at her back. "Thalmor…." Markus whispers bitterly. I look over to him to find his jaw clenched, brow deepened, and nostrils flared.

His breathing is rough as he pulls his bow from the stone under us, he flips his armor over, to find the quiver attached empty, the remaining arrows must have spilled out when he ran over. He cusses under his breath, and drops the bow.

The woman takes off her helmet, letting long, blonde hair flow down over her shoulders. She scans the area, in search of something. Her yellow tinted skin is brightened even more by the sun's rays. She looks down, and examines something on the rocks in front of her. She stands and replaces her helmet, before wading into the shallow river, and crossing it quickly. Her lithe form radiating elegance.

The elf disappears into the foliage on the other side of the bank, and Markus huffs in anger, "Damn it," his eyes are still wide with a hunter's stare, but his expression stings with the disappointment of a missed opportunity. He stands, collects his armor and bow, and jumps out from behind the waterfall, back onto the rock.

I follow cautiously. "My thane, should we not wait for her to get further away before we leave?"

He turns and looks at me like I'm crazy, "Thalmor are too prideful to think their enemy could have escaped their notice." He jumps back across the stones and mumbles, "Ignorant bastards." I grab my soaking shirt, and throw it back over my head.

I follow him across the river, and listen as he talks, mostly to himself, "She'll probably just keep going, unless she's found the camp…I've no interest in leaving here tonight, if she **did** find the camp, she'll try to ambush….Unless she thinks we've noticed her presence….maybe she did that on purpose…maybe she's trying to get us to pack up camp and leave, and she's got a Thalmor legion waiting to attack us when we're making our way out of the woods….."

"**Or,**" I begin hesitantly, "**maybe** she saw the dragon flying above and came to investigate." He pauses at the thought when he reaches the forest's edge. We halt on the bank, I sit near my armor, and he leans against a tree. I wet my hands and use the water to rub the blood off of my armor as he continues with his theories. He rambles on until I finish, and continues as we walk back to camp. In the end of his ramblings, Markus decides that the best thing to do is to stay put for the night, and be prepared for an attack. Though he sides with me on the thought that she was drawn here by the dragon. We start our way back, Markus leading the way as if he'd memorized the woods.

The thought of the Thalmor reminds me of Terran, and the promise I'd made to him. I walk alongside Markus, and as we enter camp, I get my nerve up to ask, "So, what was Valenwood….**like?**" He sits on the trees stump as he'd done this morning, only now he looks at me with a confused expression.

"Ummm….I…Why do you want to know?" he asks, his voice sounding a bit defensive.

* * *

**Markus **

I should be happy, I know. Finally Lydia's talking, finally she's grown something of a personality, and **finally**, I'd gotten her to laugh in Windhelm, along with a couple big smiles.

_ I should be happy, and I am, but…..why ask about Valenwood, why now? _

_If I don't say anything, will she just retreat back into that shell of hers? And if I do, what does it matter? Valenwood is seemingly a whole different world. What would it matter to her what it's like there?_

_**Exactly. What would be the harm in telling her about a place forever away? You accuse her of being a wall, yet you're shutting her out just as much. **_

**_ Hypocrite. _**

_Hey, fuck you, reason…And, hello, insanity. Alright, alright, no more arguing with myself in my head. _

But, of course, the voice is right. "I'm just curious, is all," she says shyly, "if you don't want to talk about it, it's alright." She turns away from me, and is about to duck into her tent, when reason wins out, and I hear my voice speak, but feel as though someone else is talking.

"It's, uh," I sigh, and she turns, "it's warm there…..it's **always** warm there." I say, my voice sounding almost pained. Her face is softer than usual, her damp hair clings to her head, and her pale cheeks hold a small blush to them. I look down, not wanting to make eye contact. "The forest is thick," I look up the forest around us for comparison, "**very **thick, you can't walk five feet without a tree being in your way, this forest is a wide open plain in compared to the whispering wood." I look back to her, to find her blue eyes asking me to go on.

I clear my throat, "Makes it hard to get around, unless you're used to dodging trees, or you're good at climbing. I was never very good at running on the forest floor, so I'd always use the treetops." I shake my head, and focus on her question; "Well, there's not even a word for 'winter' in elven, some parts of the year are cooler than others, but like I said, it's always warm. Not like Skyrim, the weather here is so **fickle**." She takes a seat on the ground outside of her tent, her expression as attentive as ever.

"It's never dark there, either, by day, the sun shines through to the forest floor, and by night," I look down and smile to myself, remembering the beauty of Valenwood's nighttime, "the lantern laels," I realize she'd have no idea what a lantern lael is, so I correct myself, " the flowers glow, all different colors." Her eyes light up, brighter than any old glowing flower I've ever seen.

"Really? The flowers?" I smile at the wondrous expression on her soft face.

I nod, "I wish you could see them," I reach up to my neck, wishing for my talisman, but pointless wishing is pointless wishing, and certainly won't bring my talisman back.

"Well, what makes them glow?"

"I don't know, the Chief used to say that the forest blesses those with the blood of the Bosmer, and will light the way for only the people of the wood." I huff, remembering the old biddy of a chief, "She also said it was a miracle the flowers would glow in my presence, me being a Nord's bastard, and all."

"That seems a bit harsh to say to a child," she says softly.

I shrug, "Maybe, but I got over it. It's not like any of the elders were very friendly, and **none** of them were too happy about having a 'halfling' living with the clan… Wait a minute," I say, realizing she basically knows all about me, but I know next to nothing about her. "I think it's your turn to share," she looks down, and breathes in, "go on, then, Lyd."

She looks back up, and gives a ghost of a smile.

* * *

**Lydia **

**_Absolutely not! Sharing stories only leads to bonding, and bonding leads to caring, and caring leads to letting your guard down long enough for you to fail. Long enough for him to die, and if he dies, Skyrim will soon be better known as an ash pile with all these dragons flying around…_**

Somewhere in my head, another voice tells reason to stuff it.

"There's not much to tell, really," his stare probes me on, "I don't really remember much of my childhood. I was born in a small town just outside of Whiterun, my father was a blacksmith, my mother a midwife. I used to play with the swords my father would craft. I'd practice my swordsmanship on the trees in the woods that surrounded our town."

I smile a bit at the memory of my father, "My father used to say there wasn't a tree safe in Skyrim, so long as I had a sword. But other than that, I….I don't remember what life was like there. I can't think of my father's name, or my mother's, I can barely remember what they looked like…."

Markus looks down a moment, his face is calm, his lips turned into a slight frown. "One day I was out chopping at the trees as always, but when I came back, the town was burned to the ground, and I couldn't find my parents. I stayed there a day or two, hoping they'd come back, and then Whiterun guards came to investigate why there hadn't been any word from our town for days. I'm told I was the only survivor of an apparent bandit raid, and I guess it's true, I've never heard anything different."

"Surely you must have **heard** something when the raid was happening, though?"

"No, I don't think I did, otherwise I would have gone back, surely…. Anyway, the guards took me to Whiterun, and I was raised with a small family until I was thirteen or so,"

_I never did let myself get close to my adopted family, for fear of being abandoned again._

"and then I asked to train to be a guard. Jarl Balgruuf agreed to let me train among the boy recruits, but I don't think he counted on me actually wanting to **be** a guard."

"Why **did** you want to be a guard? It's not like it's terribly fun, all they do is whine for want of mead, and tell stories of why they became guards, I mean, I'd like to ask a surgeon how many 'arrow in the knee' cases they've **really** had, it can't have been **that **many, surely, unless of course there's some crazy archers out there targeting knees…" I smile, Markus seems to overlook the importance of most things.

"I wanted to be a guard to make a difference, I wanted to help people, I wanted-"

His face fills with an understanding smile, one filled with respect, and softness. "You wanted to make sure that a bandit raid never left a kid an orphan again, right?" Or maybe he doesn't overlook things…

I nod, surprised that he picked up on that. "So what are you doing here, with me?" He asks smoothly.

"I didn't **choose** to be a housecarl, I was selected because I was the best Whiterun had to offer." His eyes narrow, a question on his mind.

"So if you weren't **selected **to come with me, you'd still be in Whiterun, wouldn't you?" I think about it for a moment.

_Would I have volunteered to follow a stranger along on adventures, into untold danger, while finding treasure, nearly getting killed everywhere we go, and slaying dragons along the way? _

The answer is clear, "No, I wouldn't be here." I say it softly, his face turns cold, he's visibly taken back by my answer. "But I'm glad I am. You need someone like me to keep you alive, my thane." I smile, and his face lightens, though something lies behind his smile.

* * *

**Markus **

"But I'm glad I am. You need someone like me to keep you alive, my thane."

_You're right, Lyd. I do. But how long __**can **__you keep me alive? How long 'till it's all too much for even you? How long 'till that final battle...? I wish that old woman had been more specific._

There seems only one thing to say, no matter how corny it is. "I'm glad you're here, too." I notice the sun is low in the sky, and strike the flames in my hand. I light the logs in the campfire, and warm, orange light encases the wood pieces. "Best prepare for night, don't know whether or not the Thalmor scout found the camp while we were gone."

She stands up, and snatches her armor from the ground, strapping it loosely over her, "We should take turns standing guard, my thane."

"Sounds good to me, I'll go first," she nods and turns back to her tent, "hey, Lyd?" she turns back, the warm light of the fire giving her pale skin a tanned look. "Do you have any arrows?" She smiles, reaches into her tent and tosses her quiver, which is full of arrows, across the fire to me. "Thanks," I say as I catch it.

"Goodnight, my thane." She ducks inside her tent, and closes the flap behind her.

"Goodnight, Lyd." I say quietly, probably too quietly for her to hear. I walk to a nearby tree, and carve a target into the bark. I turn back and sit on the stump by the fire, and take aim at the bulls eye with my bow. The wooden curve seems to meld into me, making it an extension of my arms. I release the arrow, and hit the target, but miss the bulls eye by a couple inches.

I draw the next arrow, and relax as I aim, letting my bow and arrow guide me gently. I release the arrow, and it whistles by, hitting the target dead center. A smile crosses my face, I'd forgotten how good my bow had felt in my hands, how satisfying landing a hit on my target could be.

I draw the next arrow, this time taking a quick fire. I release, and the arrow flies forward, splitting my second arrow in half on the bulls eye.

* * *

**Lydia**

Markus smiles smugly at the target as I peek through my tent's flap.

"_You have to promise me you won't let him forget where he comes from." _

I smile to myself and close the flap, I then lay down on the bedroll below me. The sound of arrows whistling through the air is somewhat of a comfort. He'd spoken of Vallenwood. And here he was, firing his old bow. A smug smile spreads across my own lips.

_Were it only Terran could see Markus's progress. _

* * *

**_Author's Note: So that's this week's chapter! I hope you enjoyed it, because soon, things are going to start getting intense. _**

**_I can't say much about the next chapter without giving some prettyyy awesome plot points away, so I'll just say couple things you guys can expect next. _**

**_Markus will find out whose behind those gold eyes that seem to have been following him a while now, and get a glimpse of what they want from him. Markus and Lydia will be confronted by a stranger who offers them coin in exchange for safe harbor to Windhelm. Though trouble stirs up, and revelations are made. _**

**_Not gonna lie, I'm way too excited to upload the next chapter, I might die. Seriously. Because of this excitement, don't be surprised if I upload it early, though more than likely, I'll upload it late. I want it to be absolutely perfect!_**

**_But focusing on this chapter, what did you think? Did you like the song? :) I thought it'd be neat to include. Tell me your opinion in the cute little box down there! :) _**


	15. Cold Relations

_**Author's Note: Okay, so the war in my story is a bit different geography-wise, it's basically a north (stormcloaks) vs. the south (the empire). That's just the way it worked out so Solitude will actually be in the south in case it comes up later. **_

_**This chapter turned out a lot darker than usual, with a lot of fighting scenes. I'm trying to get better at writing the action scenes, but I'm not terribly good at it. (Sorry.) Anyways, here ya go!**_

* * *

**Markus **

A cold breeze wakes me, my eyes are heavy with sleep, my bones cold as ice. I'm sitting on the ground, my back slouched against the tree stump. "Must've dozed off…" I mumble, pulling myself up. But something's wrong.

The sky is light, but grey. The trees around camp are bare and dark, not one leaf left on their branches. Everything is grey, even the grass below me. The fire is out, and a bitter cold seems to come from nowhere.

I push myself off the ground, "Lyd, hey, Lyd," I walk to her tent and brush it open. But she's not there. I reach for my knife, finding the holster empty. My daggers are gone, too. As is my bow. A rustle sounds behind me, and I spin around to see nothing.

The rustling sounds again, deep within the bare trees. I walk through the dead trees, the rustling growing faint as I walk. The rustling is replaced by the sound of cloth blowing in the wind. The wood grows thick, making it hard to see ahead.

A moving shape catches my eye, and the sound of the fabric is louder than ever. "Lyd?" I call out as I follow the shape, but I draw near, it's obvious what it is.

Hung low on a branch, blowing in a wind that I can't feel, is a black cape. **My **black cape. The one I'd draped over the girl in Windhelm. I walk forward, looking around for an explanation of how it'd gotten there. Nothing is making any sense.

I tug it down from the branch, and a wicked cackle sounds from above. My head snaps up, looking for the source of the laughter. But no one's there.

And the laughter sounds again. "Who's there!?" I call out, seemingly to myself.

Then, a woman's voice speaks from the forest floor around me. "I told you, Markus, you'll know soon enough…." The voice seems to circle me, making it impossible to track the woman's spot. "**I'm** more interested in who **you** are…."

"There's really not that much to say, but if you'd like to come out and talk…?" The laughter sounds again.

"Not much to say? Oh contrary, Markus, there's so much to say….." My bones seem to freeze over, my legs can't move. "Markus Derrain, or Varius Destin…?" Clouds roll above the forest, "Nord, or Elf…..?" dead leaves are swept up in a rough wind, "Thane, or thief…?" rain pours down around me, yet not a drop touches my skin. "Dragonborn, or sad, scared little boy? Yes, you **are** fascinating, Markus. But tell me, when you heard that you were going to die at the end of all this, why didn't you run and hide? You mortals are all too scared of your impending doom."

I sweep the forest with my eyes, still looking for the woman. "I'm tired of running. Simple as that."

"Is that so?" Lightening cracks, sending a pale flash through the wood as thunder roars. "Or is it that deep, underlying wish of yours for all this to be over…? The nightmares, the memories, the pain…? Don't act surprised I know so much about you, I've watched you for some time now." Her voice intones dryly, then continues, "But, no, you chose not to flee from Skyrim because you seek an end, you long for your death. And you're running straight towards it."

"And….? Is this supposed to mean anything to me? What's it to you, anyway?" Another cackle sounds, another flash of light breaks the grey, another roar of thunder booms above.

A swirl of dead leaves lifts from the ground, creating a tunnel of wind. Inside the leaves, a figure appears, and the leaves fall to the ground. "You've no idea who I am, do you, Markus?" The woman asks, as she steps forward from across a line of trees.

I shake my head, my stomach churns uneasily. "I am known as many things among you ill-fated beings, but you may call me," she pauses, adding to my tension, "Mephala." Her hair is black, her features sharp and precise. The only bit of color in this strange place comes from her gold eyes.

She wears a dark cloak, and a low cut dress, an odd necklace dangling between her breasts. "Mephala, as in the Daedric prince?" A wicked smile covers her pale face, sharp fangs shine unnaturally in this dull world.

"The very same. Glad to know you've heard of me." She walks closer, but turns, and begins to circle me.

"And why, if I may ask, has a Daedric prince been following me lately?"

"Because I like to check on my investments." She runs her slim fingers down her necklace's chain, smoothing the gem at the end of it in her fingertips.

" 'Investments' ?" The gold of her eyes and her circling pattern reminds me of a sabre cat. "Care to explain?"

"Well, that's why I'm here, actually. I have a proposition for you." She pauses as the storm around us worsens, yet I can't feel any of the wind or the rain that is blown around us. "You've quite the journey ahead of you, and glorious as it may be, you **will** die, and your soul will pass on from this world. This is my request; when you fall, give me the dragon souls you've collected, let the power of the Dovah live on, instead of releasing those souls into the sky, and wasting their power, their **potential**."

"And what will you do with them, and don't try to tell me you'll use them to feed all the orphans and give lonely kittens love, because that just won't work." Her face drops, her eyes roll.

"How amusing," she says in a monotone. "No, I will not lie; I won't use them for such idle things. I have greater ambitions. Though those ambitions are my own dealings, and I've no intention of sharing them with you. All I need is for you to say 'yes'. That's all."

I bite my lip, it's an easy decision; no. Plain and simple. no. But I have my doubts about saying the 'N' word to a Daedric prince. "And if I refuse?"

The storm stops, the clouds hang low, and the wind seems to slow as the leaves fall to the ground. She's suddenly right in front of me, her cold hand brushes my cheek, her golden eyes bare into me. "I don't see why you would refuse, it's not as if you'll miss them when you're gone."

I force my legs to step back, and I brush her hand off my face. "I don't trust Daedric tricks."

Her face twists in anger, and her mouth opens to speak, but suddenly the sky goes pitch black, and a sea of crows fly overhead. Her face drops as she whispers, "Nocturnal…." She turns back to me, her eyes now frantic, "I will see you again, my dear Dovah." She snaps her fingers, and I wake in a flash of light.

The sky is clear, the sun is rising, and the air is warm. "Good morning, my thane." I look to my right to see Lydia standing by the fire, stirring something in a cooking pot. "Are you alright? You look….quite pale."

My hand brushes my cheek, my skin is freezing cold, as it had been in my dream. Lydia's face turns worried, "N-no," I clear my throat, "I'm fine, just a-just a dream, is all." Her face is heavy with doubt, but she turns back to the cooking pot.

"It seems we both fell asleep last night, but no harm done, we're both still breathing. I decided to make some stew for breakfast," she looks to me as if to ask if that's alright. I nod, and she looks back to her stirring. "Where should we be off to next then, my thane?"

I stand up and stretch while a yawn breaks from my mouth. "Well, let's see the map, shall we?" I walk to my pack, and pull out the squashed scroll within. I kneel by the stump, and unroll the scroll on its wooden surface. I stab one side with my knife to hold the curled paper in place.

The map is littered with blue and red marks telling of whose territory it is. Either Stormcloak or Empire, both are just as annoying and bothersome, and neither seem eager to concede. I look the map over, seeing splotches of red to the south mostly, and blue to the north.

It makes sense, really. The Nords are a hearty bunch, and good at surviving in the cold of the northern winds. The south holds temperatures much better suited for the Imperials and their conscripts.

Between the two territories, a thin line lies with an absence of either red or blue. And a few towns are scattered throughout the narrow way of indifference.

One town, in particular, catches my eye, Kernanston. It lies on the coast, so it should have a large dock, meaning a good trade system, hopefully.

_I'm sure there's a couple quests that need doing there, at least. _

The town is not terribly far, though to get there we'd have to pass through some more woods, with limited visibility and no knowledge of our surroundings.

_Sounds like an adventure waiting to be had. _

"Kernanston, it is, Lyd." I say as I release my side of the scroll, letting it curl towards my knife.

Lydia looks up at me, "As you wish, my thane." The birds chirp among the treetops, and a sweet breeze blows cool air on the forest floor.

We eat breakfast quickly, both of us wanting to get on the road quickly, and be off on our way. We pack up the horses, and set off to find our way through the woods.

As we walk through the trees, a voice calls me, seemingly in my mind. _"Think about what I said, Dovah, I will be watching you." _The voice is distinct, Mephala without a doubt. I turn to look at Lydia, her face the same as it had been all morning. She hadn't heard Mephala's call.

I can't tell whether to be happy about this or not. A bone chilling breeze breaks through the trees, and a rustling sounds atop the slope we are riding up. Lydia looks to me, her face worried at the ruffling noise.

She takes out her bow, as I tell my horse to move up the hill. Lydia follows close behind, her bow still drawn. As the forest past the hill comes into view, a black blob sways in the wind. "It's alright, Lyd, it's just my cape." I nudge the horse to a gallop, and ride to the tree where my cape is hung on a branch.

The feeling of being watched is not one I'm comfortable with, but it seems like Mephala has no interest in leaving me be anytime soon, so it's a feeling I might just have to learn to deal with. Lydia brings her horse beside mine. "Your cloak? But how did it…?"

I pluck it from the branch's grasp, and lay it over the back of my horse. "I don't know."

* * *

**Lydia **

Markus's skin is pale, his eyes are a darker shade of green than normal. "But, my thane, how could I have gotten there?"

"I don't **know**, Lydia, leave it be." His voice is hoarse, his features heavy and stern. He nudges his horse forward at a steady gallop, passing through the woods ahead.

Leaving me alone. I look through the forest floor, and to the treetops, looking for an explanation. But there's nothing.

_What were you expecting, though? The dead girl come back to return Markus's cloak? _

I urge my own horse forward to follow Markus up the trail, still searching the woods for some semblance of an answer; though none present themselves.

Within two hours, we're out of the woods and on a flat trail, heading east to the coast. Markus looks tired, his shoulders hang low, his arms grip the reigns loosely, and his face seems intent on something. He might just be thinking of what we'll do when we get to the town, but for now he just stares at the road ahead.

We near a curve in the road, and when we emerge around the bend, a barricade prevents our passage. Empire soldiers stand guard, and ready their weapons as we approach. Their leader steps forward, "Halt! This land has been claimed by for the Emperor, state your business."

Markus is clearly annoyed. "My business is my own, now let us pass or die. Just know it doesn't matter which way you choose, I'm still going to walk right through your little stick pile there," he points to the barricade, "the only difference is, your neck will still be intact if you let me pass without trouble."

The captain of the soldiers looks us over, a bitter edge on his face at Markus's comments. "We're on strict orders not to let anyone pass." Markus rolls his eyes and lets out a bored sigh.

"You take orders from Tullius, yes? What does the old fool want with this single pass way?" The captain seems bothered by Markus's 'old fool' remark, but answers nonetheless.

"These orders didn't come from **General **Tullius, our allies called for our aid, and so here we are." The other guards shift uneasily behind their steel shields.

"And these **allies** would be….?" Markus probes the captain on.

"I don't see why that's anything you should know, now turn around and be on your way, or I'll order my archers to put you down."

Markus laughs, "I see no archers."

"They're hidden among the trees, you **won't** see them, not until it's too late for you to run."

"A desperate man's empty bluffs," Markus snaps his fingers, and fire encircles his palm, "who are these allies, now, I've no time for idle talk." The captain eyes the flames with a hint of fear, though manages to keep a mostly straight face. "Come now, you look cold, you could use a bit of warmth, surely." The captain sighs.

"The Thalmor, they told us to block off this road. They didn't say why, or what for, they just told us no one enters, no one leaves. Not until the Thalmor give the order."

"Right, sure." Markus dismounts, and stand directly in front of the barricade, facing the soldiers head on. "You guys might wana move, just a little advice." The men look at one another, most likely question Markus's sanity, its six against one, after all.

None of the men move, and the captain just unhooks his shield from his back, and brings his sword from its holder. "Right, then, your choice," Markus digs in his boots, and in knowing what's about to happen, I cover my ears. The first word breaks from Markus's mouth, and a couple of the lucky men dive out of the way.

Markus's shout rips through the air, sending the remaining men flying backwards in the barricade. The barricade itself cannot withstand the force of the shout, its center is ripped apart, the wood flies across the roadway. Markus turns back, mounts his horse, and slowly rides through the remains of the wooden structure.

We ride for a few minutes, when a thought pops into my head, "I just realized something," I say, unsure of whether he's in the mood to talk.

"And what would that be, Lyd?" His voice is rough, his brow wrinkled either in annoyance, or in concentration.

"That's only the second time I've seen you use a shout." It seems rather odd that he rarely ever uses them, were I the Dragonborn, I might use them all the time.

"I don't like using them," he says flatly, probing my interest.

"Why is that, my thane?" He huffs out in amusement, but offers only a small smile.

He looks over at me, and motions his head towards me as he speaks, "Because, it gives me a headache, it's too loud, especially if you're the one saying it." I smile, he gets headaches when he shouts, what an odd thought. Though I guess it **does** make sense.

After another hour or so, Markus tells me to take the lead, riding just a bit ahead of him. I do for a while, until I hear light snore behind me. I turn, seeing Markus laying back on his horse's own back, with his hood pulled over his eyes, one arm over his chest, one dangling off the horse's side. The reigns of his horse are tied to my saddle, though how he pulled that off without alerting me, I'll never know.

_Then again, he __**is**__ a thief. _

If I remember the map correctly, we should be approaching a bend soon-

"Stop right there, strangers!" Markus launches himself upward, almost falling off his horse. A Stormcloak soldier stands before us, his bow trained in our direction, his arrow turned slowly against the bowstring. More Stormcloaks jump from the woodland on either side of the road before us.

Markus cusses under his breath, and pulls his hood back. "Now then, off yer horses, nice n' easy, like." I look to Markus, who only sighs and nods before stepping off his own horse. As Markus stands, one of the soldiers to the right speaks up.

"Aye, that's one of them tall fellas, oh, whatta they call 'em…." The man trails off.

"Shut up, Kirn, you fuckin idiot, just shut up." Another grumbles, but the one named Kirn doesn't shut up.

"No, you prick, it's one of them….Halflings! That's it! He's a Halfling!" Markus growls at the name, a sneer shadowing his face.

"Aye then, he's a half elf, then?" another man asks.

"He could be a Thalmor spy! He's come to spy on us then tell the Thalmor! We've got to kill him," Markus laughs darkly.

"Alright, I'd wanted to steer clear of your little game of soldiers," Markus reaches for his knife just as the archer releases his bow, my eyes grow wide, and I try to reach Markus before the arrow gets to him, but it's impossible.

Markus flips his knife, and somehow bats the arrow away in midair with his blade. "but I'll make an exception, just for you, little Stormfucks." Markus sheathes his knife, and brings out his daggers.

I draw my sword and shield, ready for a fight. The Stormcloaks draw their blades, and dash forward in a disorganized attack. Markus leaps into the middle, just as he always does. The Stormcloaks surround him, and I take to chopping at the outer ones of the circle.

I approach one, and immediately he swings with all his might, letting out a battle cry with his swing. I block the blow easily with my shield, and with the Nord still following through with the blow, I take advantage of his broken stance, and slice through his neck easily. His blood spurts from his neck, as he grabs at the torn flesh. He falls to the ground quickly, and I move on to the next.

* * *

**Markus**

I turn in a circle, landing crippling blow after crippling blow on these floundering morons. Nords may be hearty, but they're slow, much, much too slow for me and my daggers. Blood splatters from every wound I make in this dizzying circle. As each Nord tries to swing their greatsword or hammer down on me, I make a quick dodge, and land a blow on another one of the surrounding Nords.

Blood soaks my blades, and splatters on my face. Two or three of the Stormcloaks are already dead at my feet, as their brethren try desperately to land a blow on me. After I take out another one, leaving only four now-

_Make that three, Lydia just decapitated one…_

One of the three turns around to her, and the other two time their strikes together, making it impossible for me to sidestep both blows. I push off the ground, and land right behind one of the remaining two. I stab him in the spine, severing his back. He falls to the ground, limp and screaming in pain. "What's a matter?" I lean down while the other is spinning in circles looking for me. "Halfling too quick for you?" I lift my dagger, and slam it deep into his heart cavity, silencing him **almost** immediately.

The other soldier strikes down at me as the Nord's blood pumps around my blade, soaking my gloves in its sticky warmth. I roll to my right as the exhausted Nord huffs in excursion. Lydia runs up behind him, and slams him to the ground with her shield.

The Nord falls, and turns over, only to watch as his torso is impaled by Lydia's sword. His head turns to the side as the life drains out of him, he looks at his fallen comrade, and his stare turns glossy as he exhales a last wheezy breath.

I wipe the blood from my face, turning to Lydia as she pulls her sword from the Nord's chest. "Thanks for the help, Lyd, nice timing." She looks down at the fallen Nords, before turning back to me.

"Of course, my thane." I look at the blood soaked pathway, scattered with corpses.

I sigh, and bend down to a patch of clean grass. I wipe my blades off on the grass, as Lydia does the same nearby. "I thought this road was left untouched by the war," I say.

"It's been awhile since we checked up on the war's movements, my thane. Things must've changed since then." I stand and replace my blades into their sheathes. I stride over to my horse and mount it quickly, intent on making it to the town with no further interruptions.

Lydia does the same, and we ride off down the paths. We haven't been riding more than an hour after the fight when we come to the coast, and to the town.

The weather is slightly chilly, but its paradise compared to Windhelm. The sun is still relatively high in the sky, and the day is still young. We ride into the town, and I have my hood up, not wanting to be recognized this time. No matter how fair the women may be.

My coin purse has been a little too light for my liking ever since I'd bought the new armor, and it's time to get back to business. Of course we'd need a job to do first, and where better to find one that needs doing than at a barkeep's tavern?

We step inside the tavern; the space is small, with only a few tables and a bar. Most of the tables are empty, though there are a few with people sitting at them. Seeing as how the information we need comes from the bartender, I decide the bar is the best place for us.

We sit at the heavy wooden stools, I pull back my hood, and the barkeep speaks, "What'll it be, then?" The Nord rumbles, his blond beard vibrating at his voice.

"Whatta 'ya have?" I say, to busy staring at the impressive beard to notice his curt tone.

"We got mead." I look up from his beard, finding his head to be completely bald.

_Makes me wonder…did his hair crawl down from his head to his jaw..?_

"I guess we'll have the mead, then." The barkeep slams two mugs down in front of us, and begins to spill mead into them….and around them…..and on them….and on us…

He slides the drenched mugs forward, and I take a hesitant sip. I look back up to him, finding him staring at me in a most uninviting manner. "So, heard any rumors lately?" He sighs.

"Yeah, apparently fat Matilda is lookin' for a husband,"

"That's not really what I meant….how about work? Any jobs that need doing?" I say, hoping for something actually useful.

"Well, there's fat Matilda….?" He says, I close my eyes, and sigh.

"No. Not like that. Are there any paying jobs-"

"I'll pay you, she comes in here every night and grabs every man's ass 'trying to find the ripest one,' she says, it's driving my customers away," I look over to Lydia, who is taking a sip of mead. "If you could just get rid of her somehow, I don't care how you do it,"

"What's with you Skyrim women and men's asses?" She nearly spits out her mead. I look back to the barkeep, who's looking at Lydia as if she were an ass grabbing fiend. "Any **serious** jobs that don't involve fat Matilda?" The barkeep sighs in defeat.

"Speak to Wierlin, over there," he points in the corner of the room, where a man sits alone, with a hood pulled over his face.

I turn back to the barkeep, and place a good amount of gold on the counter. "Thanks," I say as I turn away from the bar. Lydia follows me across the room, and we approach the table. "Wierlin?" I ask, and the man raises his head. "Barkeep tells me you've got a job."

"Yeah, I got one." The man grumbles as he turns back to his mead. "But not for you, why don't you run on home now, kid."

I laugh and look at Lydia, who's as stoic as ever. I pull out a chair and sit at the table. "I'm no kid," the man grumbles again, "just tell me what the job is."

He looks back up from his mug, a thick deep grey beard peeks out from underneath the dark blue hood that covers the top half of his face. He tilts his head to get a better look at us. "You're not from around here," he says evenly.

"No, we're not." I say, growing tired of useless conversations.

"How did you get past the blockade, the Imperial soldiers?" I huff in boredom, today just keeps getting more and more bothersome.

"They really weren't a problem, I was surprised at how simple it was, actually." I hadn't been totally sure whether or not the captain was serious about those archers, but I had a good feeling he was lying.

"Right, then, I need somewhat of an escort, you see." I look to Lydia, whose face is intent on the man's words, "And I'll pay you very well for safe transport."

"Right, right, but why do you need an 'escort' to begin with? Is someone after you?" The man takes a swig of mead.

"This is Skyrim, kid," he pauses, "you never know what's waiting for you out there." The man's voice is deep, with a heavy Nordic accent.

"…..Riiiiggghhht….So where was it you needed to go again…?" I say, after giving Lydia a 'this guy's crazy' look.

"I need to get to Windhelm right away, then. No stops, no rests, no camps. I need to keep moving, and get there as soon as possible." I sit back in my chair.

"Windhelm?" The man nods, but I shake my head, "I've no interest in going back to Windhelm, you'll have to find someone else to take you," I stand up, and turn away, when something heavy is thrown on the table.

I turn back to find an overflowing coin purse on the table, a few gold septims falling out onto its surface. "That's five thousand there, you'll get the rest when we get to Windhelm." I turn back, and eye the man's figure.

"That's a great deal of coin for such a simple sounding task," the man sighs, and rolls his head to the side, "what's the catch?"

"There **is** no catch, just get me to Windhelm and you'll your full payment." I look at the bag of coins on the table.

"How much all-in-all?" I nod to the table, "Including this."

"Fifteen thousand total," The man grumbles, his voice is hoarse, "including this." He mimics in bitter amusement. I whistle at the amount, still suspicious about the whole thing.

"You must need to get to Windhelm somethin' awful,"

"I wouldn't be paying that much if I didn't. Do we have a deal, or not?" His impatience is clear in his voice. I look to Lydia, who walks closer to me and whispers in my ear.

"This seems shady, my thane, I don't trust this escort thing. Why would he pay so much for a simple journey?" It's a good question, and one that I wish I could answer, but the gold is good and plentiful, and who can argue with that?

I whisper back, "It's alright, Lyd. We'll be careful around him. We'll drop his ass off in Windhelm, grab our gold, and be off before Ulfric can say 'Nord Supremacy'." She nods, and I turn back to the man. "It's a deal,"

"Good, now I'll fetch my horse from the stables and we'll be off-" I hold up a hand to stop him.

"Hold on, old man, we just got back from the road, we'll leave in the morning after we rest a bit-" The man stands from the table, and surprisingly, he's just an inch or two shorter. Normally I have to look down just a bit to speak to someone.

"This 'old man' could still kick your ass, kid, so watch your mouth," Wierlin spits.

_Oh, great, sounds like my uncle all over again…_

"and so long as it's my gold you're after, you'll do as I say. Now I'll be waiting at the city's gates in twenty or so minutes, and **then** we'll leave." Wierlin storms by me and Lydia, exiting the tavern and leaving the coin purse behind.

I snatch the purse, and toss it once in the air before catching it and mumbling, "The things I do for coin," I say as I hook the heavy pouch on my belt. I turn and walk by Lydia slowly, "Whatt'ya say, Lyd? You ready to get back on the road?" I pass her, but catch a glimpse of her rolling her eyes.

She sighs behind me as we walk to the door, "I'm always ready, my thane." I smile at the bitterness in her voice and the drag in her step. We leave the tavern and make our way to the general store to pick up some more food supplies.

I buy some basic foods and ingredients, though not much since thanks to the grumpy gramps we won't even stop to eat. Lydia and I then go to the stables and trade our tired horses for some rested ones. We wait at the gate to the city for what seems like an eternity before the Nord shows up.

"I thought you said we should leave as soon as possible?!" I call to him as he approaches on an impressive grey stallion. Wierlin now wears heavy steel armor, though a black hood is sticking out and still covers his face from view. A massive greatsword rests at his back, the finely crafted blade seems to glow in the setting sun's lingering light.

"Do you ever stop talking? It seems as though your mouth never closes." I sigh and roll my eyes.

_And this is the reason I don't like old guys. All they do is complain about everything and everyone; they're all too desperate to show how they're somehow higher than you. It gets old fast._

"Never mind, let's just get on with this." I nudge my beige horse forward down the wooded path, and Lydia comes to ride by my side. Wierlin rides behind us, and I can't say I like that.

We move quickly and quietly down the path until we come to the dead Stormcloak soldiers' bodies lying across the path. We slow, careful not to run them over. Wierlin mumbles angrily behind us, though I can't make out the words. As we pass the slaughter ground, we pick up speed again.

* * *

**Wierlin**

We ride on for what feels like forever, though we aren't even halfway to Windhelm. My legs ache from the riding, my old joints lock up and crack constantly, as if mocking my aging body. For a fifty year old Nord, my body isn't holding together well.

But soon the aching will be over, all my bodily pains will end, and I will be in Sovngarde. I need only to weather my final task. Skyrim is falling apart, the Empire is making sure of it. I need only fight once more, just once more, and this will all be over.

I ride closely behind Markus and the one he calls Lyd; Markus is strange to me. His height is ridiculously tall for a Breton, yet his skin is as tan as one. The proportions of his body are odd, too; his build is much leaner than a Nord or a Breton, though he must be one of the two.

I suppose it doesn't matter though, in the larger scheme of things, he's just a guide to ensure I reach Windhelm, to ensure I reach Ulfric, and finally put an end to Skyrim's false rulers.

* * *

**Markus **

The wind has grown colder the closer we get to Windhelm; snowflakes are swept up in the gusts and carried off in waves through the air. We're little more than halfway there, and making surprisingly good time; normally by now a bear or a dragon would have shown up and ruined our pace.

The lack of predators looms in the back of my mind, causing a bit of paranoia to rise within me. An odd feeling passes over me as we ride over a small hill in the road. I slow my horse as does Lydia beside me. "My thane..?" she breaths. I come to a complete stop.

"What're you doing, you fool!? Keep going!" The Nord says in an angered whisper. I turn to look at the older man, or at least what I **can** see of him.

My uneasy feeling only grows stronger, "You're whispering," I say, and the Nord realizes his mistake. "Why would you be whispering? We're alone," the man's head sweeps the forest that surrounds the path, "aren't we, Wierlin?"

The Nord shakes his head, "I don't know, I can't be certain! We must keep moving!" I close my eyes in anger and frustration.

_Why can't one fucking job be easy? _

I nudge my horse forward again, and we take off at a full gallop down the path. "Lyd, you bring up the rear, I need to talk to our new friend." Lydia nods to me and slows to take the back. Wierlin finds his way to my side a few moments later. "Who's following us?" I say as evenly as I can, my anger boiling beneath my voice.

Puffs of breath are the only things that come from his mouth. "Listen to me, you old fool, I need to know who's following us and I need to know now." The man turns his head to look at me, another puff spilling from under his hood.

A muffle comes from his lips, "-mor," is all I can hear.

"Who?" I ask, hoping for him to say anything but-

"Thalmor," my heart falls into my gut.

_So that's why the Thalmor wanted that barricade, they're after this fool. Why not just hit him over the head, tie him to a tree and leave him here for them? The idiot deserves it. _

I'd given him the chance to say what the catch was to all that gold, yet he'd not bothered to say anything about the yellow skinned shits. "How many?" I exhale, my anger rising in me all too quickly.

"I told you I can't be certain, but if it's who I think it is, he'll have a group of seven maybe." I grumble, the Thalmor are easy to kill one by one on their own. But when there's more of them than you have blades to stick 'em with, things get tricky.

"And who exactly do you think it is that's hunting you?" The man pauses as we ride over another hill.

"He's a Thalmor captain, a former legion commander." I let out a slight growl.

"You're being hunted by a fucking Thalmor general!? I should throw you to them!" I look through the woods ahead of us, looking for any sign of movement. Generals by definition know the ways of war and battle, but Thalmor generals are nearly impossible to beat, and even harder to escape from.

Thalmor generals are the best they have, and certainly not something I'm prepared to deal with now. But there's little I can do, if the Thalmor really are following us, there's no telling where they'll strike from, it would help if I where they are….

A flash of gold shines under the moonlight in the treetops ahead of us. The Thalmor have been known to have a few Wood elves in their ranks, though few Bosmer like the high elves. I let go of the reigns and grab my bow. I try desperately to stay on top of my sprinting horse, my legs squeeze the horse's sides to steady me.

I draw two arrows from my quiver and pull them tight against the bowstring. I wait as we draw closer and the golden sparkle becomes clear. I release the arrows just under the glimmer of gold, hoping the shine comes from the helmet and my arrows land just below the protective metal.

We ride past the spot where the Thalmor had been, a snapping noise coming from the branches above. A thump lands just behind us, and I turn to see a Bosmer on the ground in Thalmor armor clutching his neck as blood gushes from in between his fingers.

_One down….who knows how many more…?_

The woods clear up ahead, and a paved road begins out in the open. A wooden sign points down the path, signaling the way to Windhelm, though it still is a little ways away. But once out of the woods, we'll be able to see the Thalmor, and fight them properly.

Our horses push on, their breaths in tune with their strides. Suddenly my horse breaks its stride, letting out a shrill neigh. The horse founders, sending me down with it. I cover my head as hooves hit the ground all around me.

* * *

**Lydia**

Markus's form goes under my horse's body, and I try desperately to swerve my horse to the right in hopes of avoiding him. My horse keeps running, and I pull sharply back on the reigns, sending the animal to a skidding stop. I look to Markus, who's still lying on the ground.

I jump off my horse and run to him as he slowly pushes himself off of the ground. His face twists in pain as he gets to his feet. His horse tries furiously to get up, but an arrow in its back leg pulls on its muscle, making it impossible.

I draw my sword and shield as a lone Thalmor rides towards us on the path we'd come from. Three more Thalmor drop down from the trees, obviously Bosmer elves. Markus huffs in pain as he clutches his arm to his chest. "My thane, are you injured?" I say, keeping my eyes on the advancing elves.

"My arm," he grunts, but doesn't finish his sentence as the elves draw their blades and bring all different manners of magic into their hands. One wields lightning, the other two fire. The three draw closer until one sends lightning shooting out at me, I duck behind my shield, scattering the bolt in all directions.

I lower my shield, only to be struck at by the same elf. I deflect the blow with my blade, the Thalmor falls forward, his stance broken, his body open to attack. But he wrenches his other hand up, and shoots lightning out at me once more.

The bolt misses my face by an inch, sending heat from its power through me. I lift my blade and swing as hard as I can down on his wrist. The lightning continues, though his hand falls to the ground, his hand having been severed by the cut.

He screams aloud as Markus disengages from an attack on the two he'd been dealing with, and swiftly stabs the Thalmor elf in the back, the man's face contorts in pain as he stares at me, Markus still behind him.

Behind Markus, the other two Thalmor thrust out their arms, the flames erupting from their palms, and towards Markus.

* * *

**Markus**

I hold my blade inside the elf, and then quickly hook my knife underneath his spine, holding him firmly to me. I spin us around so that the elf is met with his brothers' flames.

_Predictable Thalmor fucks._

I look back to Wierlin, still mounted on his horse, his body tensed and anxious. I turn back to find the flames have stopped, I slide my blade out and let the body fall at my feet. "WIERLIN!" Lydia screams behind me.

I don't have to turn around to know what's happening, I can hear it. Hooves pound the ground, growing further and further away from us. "Fucking coward…" I mumble as I stare at the two elves across from me. Another Thalmor sits atop a horse not far behind them; a man wearing intricate golden armor, the Thalmor general, no doubt.

And yet, he makes no move to aid his soldiers, he makes no hint at advancing, he just sits. I spot a small smile on his face in the distance as he turns his horse and takes off back down the path.

Lydia advances with her shield covering her body. The Thalmor focus on her advancement as I draw my own flames into the palm of my injured arm. I send the fire forth unto them, and they begin screaming in agony. Lydia quickly marches forward, and silences both with two powerful hacks of her blade.

I watch the general flees, my face shows my confusion. "What, what is it? What's wrong?" Lydia's words are fast, her sentence broken with heavy breaths.

I sigh, and turn to look at her, my face goes straight as realization passes through me. "He'll be back," I brush past her to my fallen horse, now laying on its side, breathing heavily. "Thalmor don't know how to give up on a hunt." I kneel by the horse's hind leg, the skin torn from the animal's attempts to stand.

The horse lets out a shrill neigh, and kicks back at me with its injured leg. The gelding continuously kicks out at me, forcing me up and away from his weak form. I stand back, allowing him to kick and jerk at the air in panic. Lydia comes to stand by me, her shield has been replaced on her back, but her sword is still drawn. She looks at the sword and to the frantic horse.

"No," I say calmly, reaching my hand out to lower her blade, "won't be needing that." She nods and sheathes her sword. It's been sometime since I've tried to command an animal, the way the Bosmer do. The last time being my attempt to command the troll on my way to Hrothgar, which turned out to be one of my worst ideas ever.

I sigh, and kneel by the snorting gelding's head. The dark shade of his coat nearly hides his eyes, but the whites of them bulge out in fear. I reach out and stroke his head, though it does little to calm him, "It's alright, boy, I'm not going to hurt you," I whisper quietly to him as my hand roams over his rough coat. I focus intently on the contact between us.

My palm dimly glows a pale green as the snorts grow faint and soft. His eyes focus on me, the whites becoming small. I slide down to his hind leg, keeping my glowing hand on his ribcage to maintain the fragile bond. The arrow sticks out crudely, the tendon dashed in half hang limply just outside the tear.

I quickly pull the arrow out, and glance over to the horse's head, trying to gauge a reaction. Though he simply lays there, not even a twitch comes from his muscles. I bring the healing spell forth, and hold my palm over the wound as the light encircles his leg. The skin is pulled back together, the tendon is healed, and the gelding stands. I turn to see Lydia staring softly down at me.

"Right then, let's go get that stupid fucker." I stand up as Lydia's face turns from soft to plain once more.

"Of course, my thane." And with that, I mount my horse, patting its thick neck for praise. Lydia retrieves her own horse, and we set off for Wierlin.

Questions race through my head; why would a Thalmor **general** be after that slippery scumbag? Would the general now be after Lydia and I as well? Though I wouldn't mind killing more Thalmor, they can be a formidable force, and certainly they'd be better prepared next time.

We set off down the road, as my head spins in my thoughts.

* * *

**A few hours later….**

The flaps of my tent blow wildly around the sticks holding the frame together. The wind howls as cold cuts into my bones. We'd stopped our pursuit of Wierlin shortly after we'd begun, a blizzard having appeared out of nowhere.

The snow prevented us from seeing a mere five feet ahead, so we jointly decided we'd wait 'till the blizzard had stopped, and then follow after the old fool. We know where he's going anyway. Windhelm….

_Just can't wait to go back…think I'll send my uncle a letter, 'from bitterly frigid Windhelm, wish you were here!'. _

I sigh, my breath turning to steam in the air. Lydia had set up her tent next to mine, and the sound of teeth chattering from the cold is added to the sound of the blizzard. I lay on my side, huddled up under a blanket. A horse neighs in the distance. I'll never know how Skyrim horses are always fine, no matter the weather, they always seem to be perfectly content with their surroundings.

I close my eyes, trying to focus on getting to sleep. My mind goes blank, sleep nearly consuming me, until a voice breaks through our makeshift camp. I sit up, my forehead wrinkling as I strain to hear the voice again. The winds are hushed now, Lydia's chattering sounds distant.

My bones ache from the cold, I scramble out of my blankets and look outside. Snowflakes spill from the sky slowly, shades of grey encompass the camp, as a familiar voice calls again. "Markus…..Come out now, Dovah you've nothing to fear from me," I sigh, realizing what's happening.

I step out from the tent, and walk through the blizzard, not a single snowflake touches me as I pass through them. As I leave my tent behind, the camp seems to fade and disappear. A snowy plain surrounds me, with no sign of Lydia.

"Alright then, Mephala, what is it?" I say, trying to sound bored rather than cautious of the fact that I've no idea where she might be. She doesn't answer. My heart beats quickly as my eyes circle before me.

"Come now, Markus, you sound rather annoyed." She says in a soothing voice. I turn to see her in the same dark, low cut dress, the same cloak, and the same wicked smile. Her gold eyes pierce through the grey around her, burning a hole in my own eyes.

"Yes, well it hasn't exactly been a good day, now what is it that you want?" She lessens her smile.

"We didn't exactly get a chance to finish our conversation earlier," she lets out a huff of annoyance, "you've had some time to think the matter over, what is your decision?" I sigh, wishing for some peace.

"I haven't thought on it much to tell you the truth," she stares coldly at me, "I've been a bit busy today."

"Ah, yes, escorting **Wierlin, **was it?" Her smile grows sour. I nod my head.

"He ran off, as I'm sure you know, leaving us to deal with the Thalmor," she runs her fingers over her necklace as before, "I haven't decided whether to throw him to the Thalmor or to hunt the fucker down myself, but I've no intention in letting the slippery bastard run." Her grin is small but mischievous.

She twirls her necklace in her fingers as she begins to pace through the snow, voicing her thoughts aloud. "Funny, 'slippery bastard'," she giggles darkly, "you know with a connection such as yours," she giggles again, "well, most people call their creators," she stops dead, and turns quickly to face me, letting her necklace fall back into place between her breasts. Her head snaps to the side as her grin widens further still, " '**Daddy**'," She bursts out into laughter, and snaps her fingers as darkness encircles me.

* * *

_**Author's Note: So tell me, did you see that coming? ;) I fought with myself over whether or not to end up including dear old dad, but I couldn't resist myself. **_

_**Please tell me what you thought of this chapter and all its little twists and turns, mostly meaning Mephala and Markus's daddy. **_

_**How will Markus react to his dad showing up? What will he do when, or if, he catches up to him? **_

_**I haven't decided any of this myself yet, so if you have a suggestion or anything like that, feel free to comment or PM me. **_

_**Chapters have been steadily getting longer, so the next one will probably be shorter than the recent ones.**_

_**Make sure to leave a review, I love hearing whether or not you enjoyed the chapter, it really brightens my day! :) Thanks for reading!**_


	16. Meet Your Maker

_**Author's Note: Just a warning, I only ending up editing like a fourth of this chapter, so please ignore any errors. Here ya go, though!**_

* * *

**Markus**

The darkness breaks and I fly forward into a sitting position inside my tent. My breathing is heavy, steam filling the small tent quickly. I lean my elbows on my knees and bury my head in my hands as I try to make sense of what just happened.

_No, no, she's lying; she's a Daedric prince, that's what they do. They lie and twist things to their advantage…..But if that's true, why were the Thalmor after him…? And why the fuck would a Thalmor captain-a former general, no less- be after a simple Nord? _

_ Unless he were a fugitive, an escaped prisoner, one who tried to bring the Empire down, one who tried to spark the war that was now being waged. _

_ But how did he escape, if it is…__**him**__…..how did he get away, when all his men had died?_

I run my fingers through my hair, as the answer is drawn into my mind. How could he have escaped; maybe a lot like how he'd escaped today. By leaving his men to die, by sacrificing them to save himself. I shake my head.

_But that's only __**if**__ it was him, but it couldn't have been… His name was Draener, not Wierlin…_

My head aches from the thought, from the mere possibility that they could be the same man. The same slippery coward. I rub my temple, and try to calm myself. I turn then, and peek outside my tent.

The storm is as strong as ever, the howls of the wind seeming wilder than before. Snow dances by my face, and into my tent. I shiver at the air, and close the flap again. I lay on my back and stare at the top of my tent, trying to think of anything but Draener.

I close my eyes, but sleep doesn't come, the sound of chattering still catching my ear. I sit back up, grab my blankets, tuck them under my arm, and walk out into the swirling snow. I turn and walk to Lydia's tent, hesitating at its entrance. I look back to my own, and nearly turn back, but the chattering holds me in place.

I take in a breath of the chilly air to calm myself. Not that I'm nervous, but this **is** Lydia. No telling whether I'll be welcomed with a cold stare or a warm smile. I almost duck inside, but a hand reaches out and snatches me in.

Lydia wrenches me forward, and down to the ground. She sits atop me, a look of fury on her face, a knife pulled tightly to my throat. My hands instinctively go to her hips, as she stares down at me. Her eyes go wide, and her mouth opens in shock as she drops the knife instantly. "Oh, my t-thane, I'm sorry, I didn't," she quickly climbs off me, leaving my hands to fall to the ground, I let out a sigh as I stare at the now empty spot above me. She huddles away from me in surprise. I look over to her and lean up, resting on my elbows.

She's wearing a thin black shirt and hide pants, she's sitting in the middle of a huge bundle of blankets and what seems to be her red cloak. "I didn't know it was you." She says quietly as she looks down shyly.

"What, you thought I was a bandit again?" I say with a joking tone. I remember the story she told me earlier, the one about her family and the bandit raid, I wonder whether or not she told me the truth, if she does remember anything about what happened.

She doesn't respond, she just looks up at me. She glances down to the pile of blankets crumpled over my chest, and looks back to my face, a question in her blue eyes. "I, uh," I lick my dry lips and clear my throat. "I could hear you shivering from my tent," I give a small smile, "I thought Nords were supposed to be used to this kinda thing," she gives a small smile, more out of politeness than anything.

_Well, shit. Looks like I've hit the motherload with the wall. Great. _

" 'I'd be a lot warmer and a lot happier with a belly full of mead.'" She says, imitating a thick Nordic accent. I smile and let out a small laugh, maybe this wouldn't be so strange after all. She smiles shyly, still unsure of this situation, as am I.

"So, I was sitting in my tent, when I thought of a way to keep us both warm." I sit up, and throw the blankets down across from her bundle. She bites her lip, a nervous look on her face.

"I don't know, my thane, I-" I turn back to her, as she pauses, "I don't really…" she stammers off, and I realize what she's hinting at.

My eyes go wide in surprise, "Lyd, I meant this," I hold out my hand between us, and flames engulf my palm, illuminating the tent in bright warm light. She looks at the fire, her blue eyes shining brightly, as she lets out an embarrassed laugh, rubbing her hand over her face gently. "Then again, if you want to…" I clench my hand into a fist, and the flames die quickly, sending us back into darkness.

I hear her gasp, and I laugh at the small squeak. I open my palm and the flames return, she lets out a small sigh. "Sorry, Lyd, but it's fun to mess with you." I say as lie back and pull my covers over my chest, keeping my hand outstretched between us, careful not to let the fabric near the fire.

She lets herself relax as she crawls into her bundle of blankets. "It would appear so, my thane." I sigh at my title. It bothers me that she never calls me by my name, always just 'my thane'. I open my mouth to tell her, but as she snuggles into her mound of blankets, she looks too damn cute to disturb with such a pointless thing.

She lays not a foot from me, but she keeps her distance from the flame between us. She's facing me, and our eyes lock for a moment before she speaks, "Goodnight, my thane." She turns over so that she faces the tent's wall, I sigh and stare at the tent's ceiling.

" 'Night, Lyd." I say quietly. My head is clear, with no thoughts of Draener or Wierlin or whoever. I begin to drift off to sleep quickly, grateful for the peaceful feeling.

* * *

**Lydia **

I slowly turn back over, trying not to make any rustling noise with my blankets. The fire in his palms burns dimly, casting shadows over his face. Markus looks calm, even with the fire burning in his palm. Whether he's awake or asleep, I can't tell.

I'm grateful he's here, really. It was freezing alone in my tent, unnaturally so. I hadn't been able to stop shaking, and my muscles ached from the constant trembling. But he's here now, and warmth spills from his hand between us.

I can still feel his hands on my hips as they'd firmly held me to him when I'd pulled him into the tent. The look on his face had been at first one of shock, but quickly melted into something….softer, more relaxed, even as I'd held a knife to his throat. And now here he is, laying mere inches away from me.

Whatever distance Irileth had warned me to keep before is certainly eroding away. I should have somehow made him leave, go back to his own tent and go to sleep. But he's here, and he's warm, and he's safe.

_Maybe I don't need to be distant to protect him…..maybe I need to be closer. _

I watch as his chest rises and falls slowly with each breath. His lips are partly open, and his closed eyes face toward the sky. His adam's apple is well defined in his relaxed state. I turn back to the small fire as it begins to dim.

**_You fool, this is what Irileth warned against….._**

But reason fades just as the light from Markus's palm does before my eyes. The fire dims slowly until it fizzles out completely. He must be fully asleep now, because his deep breaths are even and somewhat soothing against the howl of the wind.

I look at his hand, now lying empty across from me. I reach out and place my hand in his palm, wrapping my fingers around his large hand as fully as I can. His palm is still hot from the fire, and the heat relaxes me further. I gently open his palm wider as I lay my head down and close my eyes.

Without thinking, my fingers trace his hand, finding calluses on the inside of his palm formed from holding a blade's hilt, as well as calluses on his fingertips which I assume are left from archery. The air of the tent turns cold once more, all the heat having since faded.

Small bumps form on his exposed arm, I lift my blankets, and shuffle closer to him so that I can pull his arm underneath them without letting his hand go. His arm warms mine underneath the covers, and I lace my fingers through his. I close my eyes and fall asleep to the sound of his breathing.

* * *

**Markus**

A creaking sound wakes me, and I open my eyes to see the tent's tarp is sagging down under the weight of the snow. I try to push myself up but find my hand is wrapped around Lydia's. She's sleeping quietly next to me, but shifts slightly in reaction to me pulling on my arm. I lay back, not wanting to disturb her.

Her normally harsh expression is soft and sweet, like the look she'd given me after I'd gotten my horse to his feet. Her short dark hair drifts over her pale face, and I lightly brush it away with my other hand. She shifts her weight again, and pulls our entangled hands to her chest. She holds our hands close to her, and clutches my wrist in between her breasts. I smile, and almost say something to wake her to see her reaction.

But the creak sounds again, and the sticks holding the canvas together begin to bend. "Lyd," I say evenly. She doesn't respond, so I shake our hands a bit, causing her breasts to envelope my hand completely in their fullness. "Hey, Lyd," she slowly opens her sleepy eyes.

A snap comes from one of the sticks, and the canvas caves in on top of us. Our hands unwind as we both reach up above ourselves. The canvas is weighed down by snow, and judging by the weight, there's a **lot **of it. Lydia mumbles grumpily as she struggles to sit up. "What did you do?"

I manage to push the canvas up above me a bit, giving us a tiny bit of room underneath. I look to her, "I didn't do anything, it was the fucking snow." We both try to push the canvas off of us, but the snow is packed tightly over us, and the air is getting thick. "Alright," I say in a huff of frustration as I reach down to my holster, "this isn't working." I grab my knife, and raise it to the tarp.

"Wait a second, you're not," I look to Lydia, her eyes are still heavy with sleep, and her hair is in a mess.

"Did you have another idea?" I ask with an amused voice, her 'just woken up' look getting to me. She just sighs and shakes her head.

I turn back to the canvas, and hold it tightly in my hand as I begin to press my knife against it. "Get ready," I say before cutting a large slit in the thick fabric. Snow pours in, covering us in its frigid moisture. I bring flames into my hand, and melt the snow above the slit.

Water pours down one me, effectively soaking me through and through. But the snow melts, and I climb out of the hole. Once out, I look back down and wait as Lydia gathers everything up from inside the tent. She passes me her armor, weapons, knapsack and a giant bundle of blankets.

I pull her up with little effort, and we sit for a moment in the snow. The snow is thick, and supports our weight easily, a layer of ice strengthening it. Water runs down my face, and drips to the frozen ground. I look around for my tent, finding only its top sticking above the snow. Our horses are lying leisurely next to the tent, looking as comfortable with the weather as always.

"Well," I say after an awkward silence, "good morning, Lyd." I give her a crooked smirk. She sighs as she begins folding up the blankets into a neat pile to be loaded unto the horses.

"Good morning, my thane." She says in a small voice. "Shall we continue pursuing Wierlin now?" I sigh and lay back in the densely packed snow. I'd almost forgotten all about him. In a way, I wish I would've, I wish she would've.

After a moment, I sit back up, "I suppose so," I say as I stand, I then walk to the snow-filled tent, and begin melting the snow around it with fire. Lydia prepares the horses, fitting their saddles back on their backs and then packing the blankets in the knapsacks that hang on the saddles.

After a while of melting the snow around the tent away, I've created a hole without any snow. I fold the tent up and toss it out of the hole and unto the snow above before climbing out myself. "We're taking that tent? It's ruined," she says as I pack the canvas into one of the sacks that hang off my horse's saddle.

"Nah, it's fine." She lets out a small sigh.

"My thane, there's a hole in the top of it." She says calmly, as if it weren't obvious. I turn back to her, and give her another smirk.

"An improvement, I'd say, I like seeing the sky when I sleep," she rolls her eyes with a small curve to her full lips, a 'yeah, right' smirk, no doubt. I pace over to my buried tent, "half elf, remember?" I say with a smug grin as I pass her and begin melting my way down to my tent. The top is weighed down with snow just as Lydia's had been. I brush the top snow off to make sure it doesn't collapse.

After a couple minutes, I finish melting the last of the snow, and I finish folding it up. I then hook it onto Lydia's saddle. She finishes hooking the reins to my horse's bit, and then places her steel armor over her shirt and pants. I pull my slip my armor top over my own shirt, though I already had the pants on. We both secure our cloaks around our shoulders before we mount our horses.

"Now then," I breathe looking from side to side, "do you remember where the road is?" The snow had fallen especially hard last night, and was now hiding the road from view. I look to Lydia, who seems just as puzzled as I am.

"I'm certain Windhelm is behind those mountains over there," she points to a spot, and it seems familiar enough. We start riding, and soon end up in a narrow mountain pass. The sky is dark and grey, and birds call eerily from above.

"Lyd," I breathe out quietly, "I don't think this is the right way," just as I finish, a screech echoes from the hills above us, we look up to see a hagraven clawing her way down the steep slope. "Shit," I mumble as forsworn appear all around us. Lydia pulls out her sword as a scarcely clothed man sprints at her horse screaming, wielding a particularly large blade above his head.

Before he can reach her, I send a lightning bolt from my hand, which hits his blade and travels through the metal, passing into him. He falls to the ground, his body shaking, mouth foaming.

* * *

**Lydia**

As Markus shoots lightning from his fingertips, a forsworn woman runs toward him on his side with a murderous look on her face. I quickly place my sword back in its sheathe and pull out my bow and place an arrow taught against the bowstring. I release the arrow, landing a perfect blow right between her eyes.

There's not many forsworn left, maybe two or three. But one of them happens to be a briar heart, and there's still the hagraven to deal with. I place my bow back and draw my sword again as another forsworn approaches. She lands a small blow on my horse, who lets out a shrill cry of pain. I respond with a deep cut across the base of her throat. She spins around from the force, and falls to the ground.

I turn back to Markus, only to see him dismount and flip over his horse's head, his black cloak flowing wildly behind him. He lands in a crouch; a black mass sticking out against the pure white snow. He stands and draws his daggers as another forsworn runs at him.

I turn to my left, just as a forsworn blade is brought down on my leg. A woman shrieks as her blade finds a chink in my armor, its cold metal slicing deep into me. I let out a pained cry, but manage to run my blade through the base of her neck, impaling her in the process. "LYD!" I hear Markus cry as blood runs down the outside of my armor.

I wrench my blade from her gurgling form, but curl up slightly, protecting my injured leg from further attack. I look up and watch as another forsworn falls at Markus's feet. His eyes lock onto my doubled over form, a look of worry clear on his face, he sheathes his daggers. He makes a move to run to me, but in doing so, ignores his surroundings.

The massive briar heart has since come up from behind him, I open my mouth to warn him, to call to him, but nothing comes out until it's too late. The briar heart uses his massive staff to strike Markus over the head, sending him to the ground. The briar heart snatches him up from the ground, discarding his staff in the process; he throws Markus up against the rocky wall of mountain above.

I try to nudge my horse forward, but she won't move; the blow must've sent a feeling of panic through her. I turn back as the giant briar heart punches a dizzied Markus across the temple repeatedly. I kick my horse fervently, desperate to reach Markus. "C'mon, girl, **please**," I beg her to move. Markus regains himself for a moment, landing a punch in the briar heart's gut, which sends him back.

Markus reaches for the daggers at his back, but the briar heart recovers quickly, and grabs Markus, throwing him to the ground beneath him. I make one last attempt to get the mare to move, I kick her harshly in her side, and she finally bolts forward.

* * *

**Markus**

His hands encircle my neck, squeezing with all his strength. I can't breathe, I just gasp over and over. My hands try to rip his hands from my neck. I try to flip us, but his massive weight keeps me pinned beneath him. My strength is fading; my vision becomes even more blurred than it had been after the hit to the head.

My hands tear at his chest, desperate to push him off. I only manage in tearing the fur pelt of his shirt. Hidden under the pelt there is a hole in his chest, and in the hole, a glowing blob beats, or at least, a blob is all I can see anymore. I reach my hand inside the hole, and wrap my hand around the warm, spiky blob. I pull as hard as I can, but my strength fails me and my arm falls back to the ground as my vision fades to black.

A slice sounds from above me, and warm drops fall on my forehead, then my lips. I close my mouth to keep the blood out as I open my eyes. The briar heart stares down at me, a pleading look on his face as the anger leaves him. I push him off me and to my side.

His death grip now gone, I breathe in gratefully, coughs spilling from my throat. "My thane, are you alright!?" Lydia asks in a panic above me. I look up to see blood streaming from her leg, and onto the snow next to me.

"You're….you're hurt," I say, struggling to find my breath. She shakes her head as if I'm lying.

"Doesn't matter, we need to get you out of here." She says in a worried tone.

_Funny, she's the one bleeding, yet still she worries about me. _

My neck aches, I can still feel his fingers wrapped around it, squeezing the life from me. I bring healing magic into my hand, and gently touch my neck, letting the magic do its thing. I cough a couple more times as the magic makes it steadily easier to breathe.

A screech sounds again from the slope, and I push myself up slowly as the hagraven approaches. I draw the daggers from my back, twirling them once in my hands. The ugly witch uses her claws to lower herself down the mountain. Once down, she heads straight towards us.

I turn back to Lydia, who's gripping her leg in pain. "Stay here," I say as I start a slow jog to the screeching bitch, keeping my daggers steady at my sides. As soon I get closer, I pick up speed, and when I get close enough, the hagraven lets fire flow from her clawed hand. I push off the ground, doing a flip through the air over the fire.

As I hover over her, I reach down with my blade, and ram it up into her jaw, silencing another screech. Time seems to slow, and as I begin my descent to the ground, I pull her head back towards me, exposing her neck further. I reach with my other dagger, and cleanly sever her head from her neck.

Time speeds up again, and I land on my feet behind the gushing body of the hagraven. I look down to my dagger, and find her head still attached. "Yuck," I mumble as I push the head off my blade. It hits the ground with a squish and I look back to Lydia.

She's sitting on her horse, but she's clearly worse off than she was moments before. She's leaning against her horse's neck for support, her head is down, and her body is slipping from the saddle. A pool of blood surrounds her on the ground below. I sheathe my daggers and run to her.

I get to her just as she slips from the horse completely, catching her before she falls to the ground. The bleeding has gotten much worse, without a doubt. I gently lower her to the ground, careful not to make her cut any worse. Her eyes open slowly, but close just a moment later.

I look at the armor, hoping for an easy way to get it off without causing her any pain. But there's just one way to get the armored pants off, and that's by pulling. I sigh as her breath grows shallow. "Lyd," her eyes open slightly, "Lyd this is gonna hurt," I look at the gushing blood, "but it's gonna be alright, just hang on." She nods her head a tiny bit.

I lay her out flat against the ground, careful not to let her cloak slip beneath her. I then begin pulling the heavy plates down as slow as I dare to, not wanting to take too long, but at the same time wanting to make it as painless as possible. I give a slightly rougher tug than the ones before, sending a writhe of pain through Lydia along with a moan. "Sorry," I whisper, wondering if she can hear me.

I finally get the steel plates off her, and find that her hide pants are soaked with blood. The blood flows from a deep, large gash in her upper thigh. I put my hand through the tear in her pants, and place my fingers across the torn flesh. Orange light flows from my hand and travels up her thigh.

* * *

**Lydia **

I can hear his words, "but it's gonna be alright, just hang on." I nod my head, as my eyes grow heavy, the need for sleep growing stronger. I've heard of this before, this is what happens when you're dying from blood loss. You get tired, and cold, and want nothing more than to drift into sleep. But it's an eternal sleep you slip into.

I try my best to resist, but the air is so cold, and as Markus tugs at my armor, the world only grows colder. He tugs once roughly, sending pain shooting through me. I moan in agony, I hear him whisper an apology. I feel him slip off the heavy steel, and then his hands gently examine my wound.

My breaths grow smaller as I feel his hand slip under my pants. I wince as his fingers brush over my wound, the sensitive skin sending shocks of pain through my leg. I start shivering, the world growing even colder than before.

Suddenly, warmth spreads through his fingertips, filling my wound with heat. I can feel my skin mending, the muscles being reattached under his healing hands. The world doesn't seem so cold anymore, the warmth spreading up my thigh and to an extremely sensitive area a bit higher up.

It feels nice, a little too nice. I open my eyes a little, hoping Markus he won't notice. He doesn't, just keeps his eyes on my wound, his emerald gaze concentrating fiercely on healing me. Worry is hidden behind his concentrated gaze, but his concentration breaks as the warmth stops.

"Shit," he says as he pulls his hand from my leg, leaving me with a slight feeling of disappointment, both in the removal of his hand and in the absence of the warmth it brought. He stares at his palm which is covered in my blood. He flicks his wrist a couple times, trying to bring the healing magic back into his palm. But nothing happens, and he turns his attention back to me. "Lyd, hey, hey, you okay?" His clean hand brushes my cheek gently.

I shake my head, and open my eyes fully, letting him know I'm okay. "Yes, I'm fine," I try to push myself off the ground, but can't find the strength to. His hands find my shoulders, and gently hold me from my attempt.

"I don't think you should try to get up quite yet, here," he says soothingly as he pulls off his cloak and puts it under my head. "Wait here," he says as he stands and runs back to his horse.

_No I was just going to run off…_

I sigh, realizing how bitchy that thought was. He's just worried, and for now he's being….sweet. He returns a few moments later with some potions and food. He lays them down to my side, and looks me over once more before speaking, "I didn't know which potion you'd need, I mean we got minor healing, cure-all, so I just grabbed both." I can't hold back a small smile at his efforts. "And then I got you some cheese and bread, unfortunately that's basically all I bought at the store before we left for Windhelm."

"That's fine, my thane, **I'm** fine, we should get going." I push myself up to a sitting position, though Markus still hovers.

"All the same," he says with another worried look, "you should eat something, and drink a healing potion, my magicka ran out before I could really finish. I mean the wound's closed, it's just, I…I just want to be sure it doesn't-" He mumbles off as he finally makes eye contact with me. For a moment his green eyes just look at me; I smile at him, which makes him smile a little too, and hopefully calms him a bit. After a few moments, he clears his throat, "Right, then, you eat, I'll….go…do something." He says a bit awkwardly as he stands and walks off.

I giggle to myself, one thing Markus has never been, is awkward. It's cute, and endearing, and the complete opposite of what I'm used to from him. I eat quickly, taking small sips of the healing potion all the while. I regain my strength, and look to see Markus just standing next to his horse, stroking the gelding's large head.

Once I'm done eating, I pull my armored pants back on. I mount my horse, and ride up to him with his cloak in my hand. "Ready to go?" he asks, eyeing me up for what feels like the thousandth time.

"Yes, my thane, are **you** ready to go?" I hold out his cloak, and he takes it with a smirk. The sun had since come out, and the snow was now beginning to melt, allowing us to find the real road to Windhelm. Once we were on our way, Markus's face grew serious, as if he were thinking intensely on something, most likely what he'd do to Wierlin when we catch up to him.

**A few hours later…. **

We approach the stables and quickly drop our horses off, and then enter the gates of Windhelm. Markus's body is tense, and for good reason. As we enter, a line of guards approaches us, their swords already drawn and ready. How they could've known we were coming is beyond me. "Dragonborn," says a familiar guard captain, "follow us." He must've cleaned all the manure out of his armor, for it now shines just as it had before.

Markus sighs, and nods his head. The captain lets out a sigh of his own, though his is out of relief rather than annoyance. The guards lead us to the palace of the kings, and escort us inside. This time we are greeted by a conversation between Ulfric and one of his generals instead of an angry steward.

"He'll come around," Ulfric says while sitting on his throne, "he's a true Nord."

"Don't be so sure, we've intercepted couriers from Whiterun; it seems the empire is putting a great deal of pressure on Whiterun." Ulfric's general barks from his standing position before Ulfric's throne.

"And what would you have me do?" Ulfric says as calmly as he can.

"If he's not with us, he's against us." Says the obviously hot-headed general.

"He knows that; they all know that." Ulfric says. They don't seem to notice our entrance since they haven't looked up at us once.

"How long are you going to wait?" The general wears a bear's pelt over his head, it seems fitting for his aggressive demeanor.

"You think I need to send Balgruuf a stronger message?" Ulfric sounds calm and collected compared to his general companion. I look to Markus, who's glaring at the two before us, either he's angry already, or he's concentrating on their words.

"If by message you mean a sword through his gullet." Ulfirc sits forward in his throne, leaning towards his companion.

"Taking his city and leaving him in disgrace would make a better statement, don't you think?" the general barely considers the thought before barking once again.

"So we're ready to start this war in earnest, then!?" Ulfric sighs and sits back in his throne.

"Soon." Is the only answer he gives.

"I still say you should take them all out like you did Deadking Torygg." Markus huffs next to me. He'd heard how Ulfric had 'shouted Torygg to death'. And I can only wonder what was going through his mind right now.

* * *

**Markus **

_Lovely Stormcloaks, just lovely. Invite me over so you can scheme and plot all night. And to think, I could have a wench sitting in my lap right now. But no, I'm here, listening to these proud assholes. Lucky me. _

"Torygg was merely a message to the other Jarls. Whoever we replace them with will need the support of our armies."

"We're ready when you are," the bear-head growls, no doubt he's eager for battle.

"Things hinge on Whiterun. If the city can be taken without bloodshed, all the better, but if not….." Ulfric sounds calm, cool, reasonable…all too much so.

_Seems like a game of 'Good guard Bad guard' to me._

"The people are behind you," I roll my eyes.

_Not as many as you'd like to think….._

"Many, I fear, still need convincing…" I let out a small chuckle as I walk toward the large table. I pluck an apple from the bowl in the center, and bite into it as I walk to the chair at the end of the head of the table closest to the two conversing Nords. I bite into the apple as I slide the heavy wooden chair out and spin it around so that it faces them. The two finally take notice of both me and Lydia, giving us questioning glares.

"No, please," I say with a full mouth, "don't let us interrupt." Lydia comes to stand at my side as the bear-head lets out a huff of anger and Ulfric merely brushes my remark off. The bear then continues as if they weren't interrupted.

"Then let them die with their false kings." I can't help but let out a small laugh while I look down at the apple in my hand.

"We've been soldiers a long time. We know the price of freedom. The people are still weighing things in their hearts." In the least, Ulfric sees the truth of it. The people I've met here in Skyrim all seem uncertain of their future, uncertain of who to follow and who to hate.

But the other Nord seems all too eager to resort to anger. "What's left of Skyrim to wager!?" he shouts.

Ulfric sighs deeply before speaking, "They have families to think of." Either Ulfric is putting on a good show, or he's not that bad after all…..

_Nah, just good show. _

"How many of their sons and daughters follow your banner? **We** are their families." The man with the bear pelt over his head paces before Ulfric's throne.

"Well put, friend. Tell me, Galmar, why do you fight for me?" Ulfric leans forward once again as the ever-obedient dog barks nonsense to his master.

"I'd follow you into the depths of Oblivion, you **know** that!" I turn to Lydia, and she looks at me. I roll my eyes at this nonsense but she only gives a straight face in return.

"Yes, but why do you fight? If not for me, what then?" Ulfric's tone is even, an pleasant.

"I'll die before **elves** dictate the fates of **men**!" Whatever doubt I had toward Ulfric's demeanor is swept away after the bear-head voices his thoughts. "Are we not one in this?" Ulfric's face grows angry fairly fast. I take another bite of my apple, and sit back in the heavy wooden chair, interested in how this will all play out.

"I fight for the men I've held in my arms, **dying** on foreign soil. I fight for their wives and children whose names I heard whispered in their last breaths!" Ulfric's voice steadily rises as he raises himself from his stone throne. His face is twisted in anger, though it's not directed at his companion. "I fight for we few who **did** come home, only to find our country full of **strangers **wearing familiar faces. I fight for my people, impoverished to pay the debts of an empire too weak to rule them, yet brands them **criminals **for wanting to rule themselves!" Ulfric breathes in deeply, his nostrils flaring, his words continuously growing more impassioned as he goes.

Then he closes his eyes for a moment, and collects himself. When he speaks again, he sounds calm, though a deep undertone of exhaustion lies beneath his voice. "I fight so that all the fighting I've already done hasn't been for nothing."

_Could it be Ulfric is sick of this war as well…? _

"I fight…because I **must**." And there's my answer. He feels he 'must' fight. But for what? To have the Nords rule over all others? When does it end? When Skyrim is in ashes and he rules over all? It would be no different than now, with the empire.

"Your words give voice to what we all feel, Ulfric, and that's why **you** will be high king. But the day words are enough, will be the day soldiers like us are no longer needed." The Nord with the bear cowl speaks softly now, backing down from his aggression.

Ulfric sighs, and sits back in his throne, his hand rubbing his temple as his arm rests on the rocky armrest. "I would gladly retire from the world, were such a day to dawn." Ulfric says with a hint of defeat in his voice.

"Right, then," I say, getting up from the chair and taking another bite. "If you two are done….?" I say, my mouth still full. The one Ulfric called Galmar gives me a furious look, but keeps his mouth shut as Ulfric's hand reaches out to calm him.

"Wait," Ulfric says as he looks me up, "I know you, you were at Helgen when the dragon attacked." I smile to myself. Had no one told him I was coming? What a disappointment.

"Yes, yes, can we skip this? I was a bit busy before your guards brought me here," Ulfric's eyes open wide, realizing who I am, no doubt.

"Dragonborn..?" he says with a bit of hesitation, I only nod my head, "My apologies for the inconvenience," I resist the urge to roll my eyes, "but I needed to speak with you…?" He leaves his sentence as a question, probing for my name.

"It's Markus," I say, bothered already. Once he was done with whatever little speech he would inevitably give me, I'd be out of here and searching Windhelm for Draener. Though what I'll do when I do catch up to him, I still haven't decided.

"Markus," he repeats before sighing, "No doubt you've seen the affects the war is having on Skyrim," I nod my head and he continues, "you've seen how it's tearing Skyrim apart, how the people are suffering, yet the war I fear will drag on longer than I'd originally imagined." So he'd seen how the people are struggling, yet he pressed on, continuing to divide the land still.

"Neither my army or the Empire has landed a decisive blow; the people see this, and are stuck in the middle because of it. They don't want to get caught on the losing side. So they sit and watch as the war drags on, with no motivation to get involved. I've tried all I can to inspire them, I've called the **true** sons and daughters of Skyrim to arms, but too few have answered that call."

_And by '__**true**__ sons and daughters of Skyrim' he means the Nords, no doubt. _

"That is why I have called you here, Markus. I need someone to inspire the people, to help them see who their allies truly are. They are caught between following me or staying true to the Empire, but if the Dragonborn himself were to take up arms and fight with me, they would surely follow our banner." I take another bite of the apple before pacing back to the table and tossing it on one of the silver plates.

_And by our banner, you mean your banner. _

"Ulfric," I say casually as I walk back toward him, "have you ever heard the phrase, 'If you love something, set it free'?" His brow wrinkles with seriousness, "Just let it go, you're right, Skyrim is divided, but you're the one driving it apart. Just end this, let the people rest easy at night without fear of what tomorrow will bring, let this war end." He sighs, and looks to the ceiling of his grand hall.

"I can't do that," he says firmly, "I can't let Skyrim's children live under an Empire so twisted." I sigh and roll my eyes. "I hope you'll change your mind; if you do, you know where to find me." I sigh and turn back to Lydia, brushing by her as I walk down the hall.

Before I get too far, I turn back, and walk back to him. "There's one thing I need before I go." He nods for me to continue.

* * *

**Lydia **

Markus stands before Ulfric, his muscles tense and obviously stressed, "I came here looking for someone, a Nord man, Wier-" Markus stops, and lets out a bitter laugh, turning his eyes to ground for a moment, "Draener." Galmar and Ulfric exchange matching looks of slight panic.

"What business have you with Draener?" grumbles Galmar, his arms coming up to fold across his massive chest. Markus huffs out in annoyance.

_Draener….? __**"She watched Draener carefully, and after two weeks of stalking them, revealed herself to him."**__ Draener…..His FATHER, Draener!? Oh, shit, oh shit, oh shit. _

"What, are you hiding him away then? I came for Draener, so where is he?" Ulfric just nods to Galmar, and Galmar walks out of the hall and through a large stone door.

Minutes speed by, and as they do, Markus grows more and more tense; more on edge. His jaw is clenched tight, his brow pinched together slightly, as if he were thinking intently. The stone door finally opens, and Galmar steps through, he quickly paces back to his spot next to Ulfric.

After another moment, Wierlin, now revealed to be Draener, steps through the door and into the hall. He's wearing a black shirt and dark pants tucked into brown boots. He wears no hood this time, allowing a full view of his face. Charcoal hair covers his head, grey streaks running through his long hair. I look from him to Markus.

The resemblances are easy to spot. They have the same strong jaw, the same black hair even though Draener's is streaked from age. Their shoulders have a similar thickness, though their builds are very different. Draener is almost as tall as Markus, though much thicker.

Draener strides comfortably into the room, clutching a small pouch in his hands. "So you survived the Thalmor after all," he said in a low voice, "well I made it here safely so I suppose I still owe you." Draener tosses Markus the pouch, and Markus catches it without taking his eyes off of his father.

Markus narrows his eyes, looking closely at Draener. The room hushes into an awkward silence, though Markus doesn't seem to notice. After a few moments, Markus walks slowly to Draener, who watches him with wary eyes.

When Markus gets close enough, he shoves the coin purse into Draener's chest, "Nurali Destin sends her regards," he says darkly. Draener's eyes grow a tad wider, though not much.

"Who are you?" he says in a suspicious tone. Markus steps back, distancing himself from his father.

"You're not at all what I thought you'd be," Markus says as he turns his back to Draener, "but I guess that's how everything goes nowadays." Markus brushes by me, and I turn to follow him to the door. Markus wrenches the heavy wooden door open and almost walks out, but a voice stops him.

"Who are you?" Draener says again, much more firmly this time. Markus chuckles against the wintry wind blowing into the hall.

"Me...? I'm just another bastard." He says as he walks out, I follow him before Draener can say anything. Outside, he takes a deep breath as we walk out of the palace's courtyard. I wait a few minutes before speaking.

"So he was," before I can finish, Markus gives me a curt nod. "So why didn't you tell him who you **really **are to him?" I ask quietly, unsure of what he's feeling. He takes another deep breath before answering.

"He knows." He says darkly.

"It didn't seem like it." I say with an edge to my voice. He stops, steam puffs out from his flared nostrils. His jaw is clenched, and I realize I'd said the wrong thing. He turns to me, his pupils are sideways, just as a dragon's are. For the first time, I'm actually fearful of his emerald gaze.

"Didn't seem like it? Well nothing ever is as it seems now is it? So I guess that would make sense, then." He sighs and keeps walking, I follow silently. "Draener's no fucking idiot. He'll pretend like he doesn't know, but there's no way he's that blind."

* * *

**Draener **

I walk through the halls of the palace of the kings, until I come to my room. Ulfric and Galmar had asked about what the Dragonborn had meant about Nurali, but I didn't answer him. I'd just excused myself to my room.

I'll tell him soon enough, but for now I don't feel the need to. I knew I'd seen those eyes before, but I just couldn't place them. But then he'd said her name.

_"Nurali sends her regards."_

And that was it.

Nurali Destin of the Whispering wood, the mysterious wood elf from so long ago. I pull the door to my room open and step inside. Sitting on my bed is a familiar woman. "Draener," she breaths, a sultry tone to her voice. "its been a while, hasn't it?" she smiles from ear to ear.

I pull the door shut behind me. The air is cold, as it always is when this woman- this **monster**- brings you into her realm. "What do you want this time, Mephala?" I say with an edge in my voice, my caution apparent.

Her long black hair encircles her pale face, and the gold glow of her eyes intensifies as the colors fade from the room.

* * *

_**Author's Note: To those of you that wanted a big father-son meeting thingy, don't worry it's coming. I hope to have that in the next chapter. **_

_**So with the tent and healing scene, I was just in one of those moods today, and I thought Lydia should develop some stronger feelings by now, so that was the result. PLEASE tell me what you thought of those scenes! I really want to know what you guys think! **_

_**Also in the next chapter, Markus and Lydia will take up the murder quest again since, if you played that quest in the game, the wizard wasn't the real killer. **_

_**Thanks for all the favs, follows, and reviews! Really means a lot! If you haven't done any of these, why not start today? ;) Thanks everyone, see ya next week!**_


	17. Loose Ends Must Be Tied Sometime

_**Author's Note: I'm so sorry everyone, these last couple of weeks have been hell. Schoolwork has been killing me and Lacrosse season started up, so I've had no energy lately to really sit down and write. **_

_**This chapter, contrary to the title, really doesn't give much in the way of closure, but it sets it up. I'm sorry for how short it is, too, but I thought something was better was nothing. **_

_**Here ya go! **_

* * *

**Draener **

"What do you want, Mephala?" She rises slowly from her sitting position on my bed, an amused smirk on her lips.

"What, not even a greeting for an old friend?" she takes a few slow steps towards me, her black dress swaying around her. She stops not five feet from me, "Speaking of old, age certainly wasn't kind to you." I glance at the mirror on the other side of the room.

It's true, I know, time has taken its toll on me. Lines cross my face where they weren't before, aches linger ever longer, even my swordsmanship is slower, though none of this will matter soon. "Why are you here?" I turn back to see her face expressionless.

"Is this the thanks I get? And to think, all that I've given you-"

"And what would that be, exactly? What have you given me?"

"Your life, for one. Who do you think distracted the Thalmor so that you could escape? And did you think your cell magically unlocked itself? They were going to kill you," her tone is serious, as is her face.

I sigh and walk to my armor stand in the corner of the room to my right. I run my hand along the smooth metal of my armor, "Maybe you should have let them," I mumble.

"Now where would the fun be in that? Tell me, do you still have that talisman I gave you?...Yet another example of my gifts." Images from years ago race back to me. I remember how the clear crystal of the talisman would dangle from the thick chain I once clasped in my fist. I would pour a magicka potion into the crystal, and the rings would spin wildly around it as golden light would surround me.

"Yet another gift that was a mistake." I turn to see her gaze holding an air of hostility in them.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do, Mephala, don't take me for a fool. You gave me the talisman to find my way through the Whispering wood, but you didn't give me enough magicka potions to do it. My men and I were wandering in circles for days." Her eyes grow wide as her brows crunch together. "By the time Nurali led us to the shore, we were too weary to fight properly."

"It was you who undertook that foolish venture, you can't blame me for the turnout." In this she is right, and I know it. I'm the reason my men are dead, the reason their wives have long since been widows, that their children have grown with no father. I look down as she continues, "Now, do you still have the talisman, or not?"

"It was useless without the magicka, I gave it to Nurali before we set off to Summerset." A dark chuckle breaks from her mouth.

"It seems as though I'm not the only one who likes to give gifts." I look up to see her twirling a piece of her raven hair in between her slim fingers. "By my count, that's two gifts you gave Nurali."

"And by that you mean Markus? I didn't know-"

"Well of course you didn't know, she herself didn't know for months. Doesn't change anything, whether you knew or not, you would have gone to Summerset, and that's the truth." She lets the strand of hair fall back into place as her gold eyes pierce me.

"Where is she?" I ask evenly.

Mepahala stares back at me for a moment before answering, "Why don't you ask your son? I doubt he'll be leaving anytime soon." She says with an annoyed tone as the colors of the world bleed through the grey. Mephala turns to a black mass as she fades away from the world.

* * *

**Markus **

We walk quietly through the streets, which are humming with more people than I've ever seen in Windhelm. Lydia drags behind me, a sour expression still on her face.

As we walk by, a woman's conversation with a guard catches my attention. "-I haven't seen her since yesterday!" a Nord woman cries, her brown hair is streaked with grey and her locks hang around her face messily.

"Lea will turn up soon enough, I'd wager she's on her way home right now, why don't you go back to your house and wait for her there?" The guard's voice is familiar, though all these guards seem the same to me.

"No you don't understand! She lives at home with me and her father, she always comes home at night! Lea's a good girl, she would never- I'm worried! What with this butcher running about-" The guard notices me staring as I draw closer to the two on the side of the street.

"The butcher has been caught already, Fae. In fact," the guard and the woman turn to me as I approach them, "it was the Dragonborn here who discovered him. He's already been executed for his crimes. I'm sure Lea will turn up. Now, if you'll pardon me, I must return to my post."

"B-but my Lea," the woman whimpers as she reaches out to the guard. She turns back to me, tears welling in her red, puffy eyes.

The news of the ex-court wizard's execution is news to me, though I suppose it must be true, so I try to reassure the weeping woman. "The butcher is dead, I'm sure Lea will be home soon," the woman's face is gaunt, she looks as if she hasn't slept in days, though Lea had supposedly only been missing for one night. She wipes her eyes roughly, "you should get some rest." I say calmly.

She simply nods as she turns away and wades through the passing people. I sigh and wade back in myself. Lydia follows me though she keeps a further distance than normal, no doubt because of my earlier response. But what does it matter to her whether or not my father knows me to be his son? I know only a little about him from what my mother used to tell me, though the strong brave Nord she'd described doesn't seem to quite fit. My uncle is more of a father to me than Draener could have ever been, and it's a little late for any father-son reunion.

We walk into Windhelm's tavern, which is nearly deserted save for the drunken couple; the same man that I'd carried in and sat him down next to the tipsy woman. They giggle and hiccup at the sight of Lydia and I, but give no intelligible words. We walk past them and sit at a table in the middle of the room.

"Here, Lyd," I say as I unhook my coin purse, "go order some food from the bartender." I say as I place the purse in her steel gauntlet.

"Of course, my thane." She says flatly before she turns away.

"You know, I'm beginning to notice the similarities," says a voice beside me. I look over to find a familiar red head.

"Ember….?" I say, remembering the eyes that stare at me with a darker look.

Her blue eyes flash gold, "Really, Markus, do try to keep up with me," she says in a mocking tone.

"Mephala? How did you..." my eyes look over the girl I knew as Ember's face, though what I'm looking for I'm not sure.

"I thought you could use a familiar face, what with all these strangers showing up." I wait for the chill to pass over me, for the color to drain from the tavern and for the world to pause. Except it doesn't, I look over to Lydia to see her standing at the bar, shaking her head almost unnoticeably at me and 'Ember'. Her eyes meet mine and she turns back to the bartender and asks for a mead. "You don't have to worry about Ember, I'm sure she's quite happy…." She says with a bored stare in her eyes.

I look back to the red head's sweet face, though behind it I can see Mephala's wicked grin. "Where is she then? And how did you-" Mephala raises a hand and brushes the air as if to be rid of the question.

"Never you mind that now, and as I said before, I'm beginning to see some similarities between you two. I didn't see them before what with you being so joking and him being-"

"I assume you're talking about Draener and I?" She rolls her eyes and lets out a sigh at my angry tone.

"Perhaps you two are more alike than I'd first realized," she grumbles.

"And how is that?" She gives a tricky smile, her eyes tell me a witty remark is to follow.

"Well for starters, you both certainly like your whores. Take this little hussy for example-"

"Not in the mood, Mephala. Get on with it." She just rolls her eyes again, this time in frustration.

"You're both grumpy bastards, aren't you? But another thing; you both like to run away from your problems." Her face grows more teasing than anything else, "But before I get into that, 'Nurali sends her regards'? Really, Markus? A bit dramatic, don't you think?" I give a small grumble in response, and she moves on. "Anyway, he just pretended he didn't know what you were going on about, and well, you just left and went to a **tavern**?" She looks around with disgust, "But it seems you are the prominent 'runner' in your broken little family tree. Running whenever things get a bit messy, that's how you got in this cesspool." She leans back, confident with her proof.

"Is this going somewhere?" I ask grumpily, though I can't deny the truth in her words. Her eyes tell me the best is yet to come.

"And yet you tell me you're tired of running." She pauses to heighten her point. "That's why I like you, Markus; you're just one big hunky contradiction." She leans close to me, "Well, if you really are tired of running, then stay right here, 'cuz daddy's on his way. You won't want to miss this, I know I don't." she says with a smug voice. My gaze flicks back to Lydia standing at the bar talking to the barkeep and by the time I look back to Mephala's spot, she's gone.

With Mephala gone, a question pops into my head: Do **I **want to miss this? It would be so easy just to leave and not have to deal with Draener. In fact the more I think about leaving the more I want to just sprint out of the city gates. But then I'd have to face that wicked grin of Mephala's as she tells me about how majestic I looked as I once again ran from a mess.

I'm so caught up in my thoughts I almost don't notice Lydia take her seat across from me. "The bartender says our food will be out once the cook finishes it." She says as she passes my coin purse across the table. I pick the half-empty pouch up and hook it to my belt. "Are you alright, my thane? You look rather pale," I open my mouth to answer her when the door to the tavern opens wide. I don't have to look over to know who it is; Lydia's quiet gasp gives it away.

I sigh and close my eyes as I hear heavy footsteps draw ever closer to our table. The footsteps stop just to my left and I can feel his presence hovering over of us. "My thane….?" Lydia says my title in a question as if asking what she should do.

"Markus," a low voice says as I hear the chair to my left being pulled abruptly. I open my eyes to see Draener's eyes searching my face and Lydia sitting rather awkwardly across from me. After a moment Draener leans back in his chair and lets out a rough breath, I lean forward, laying my gloved hands on the table. "Yes," he says, as if answering a question, "I can see her in you, it's true then," no emotion crosses his voice save a tired undertone. I look away from his examining eyes and back to the table. I tug on the edge of my gloves as he speaks again, "Where is she?"

Anger flashes through me and I turn back to Draener, "She's dead." I say harshly, his jaw clenches and his eyes grow just a bit wider. I loosen my own jaw and turn to see Lydia's eyes comparing us.

"I-I didn't…." He stammers.

"No, you didn't." I say harshly, not taking my eyes off Lydia. She just stares back, lips parted slightly, eyes drifting from me to Draener, her brow slightly wrinkled.

"You don't know what I was going to say," Draener says in a slightly angered tone. I turn back to him now, and stare into his dark blue eyes.

"It wouldn't matter what you said, 'I didn't know' is my guess and you wouldn't have known."

_Not unless you'd bothered to stay, or even cared to check up on her after you'd failed your oh-so-important mission…_

His brow creases in anger as his stare grows harsh. "And by that you mean?" He grumbles.

"I mean that you would have known she was pregnant if you had ever tried to seek her out."

"I was preoccupied with escaping from the Thalmor," he growls, "had I sought her out, they would have surely followed and killed you both-"

"They **did** find us, and they **did** kill her, so thanks for nothing." His eyes flicker in sadness for a moment, before he picks up on my last few words.

But he doesn't say anything about my comment, just continues on. "How did they find you….? I made sure that I didn't leave a trail…" His eyes glaze over and it's clear he's not living in the present for the moment.

"Yeah, well they found us. Killed the whole clan, too." His eyes stare off as if looking through time. Lydia just sits there staring off same as Draener.

Draener's eyes snap backand he begins to speak, "Had I known- I would've come back, I would've-"

"No, you wouldn't have, you would've kept running all the way back to Skyrim, just as you ran back to Windhelm." Draener's eyes shine with anger.

"You believe me to be a coward?" he says in a disbelieving growl.

"Well let's just say that you seem to have a lucky way of surviving while those who were loyal to you fall." Those like my mother, like your men, I wonder how many more have fallen while he's fled.

A fist slams down on the table and Draener leans in close, a snarl on his face, "You listen to me, **boy**, I have been in war all my life, and sacrifices are necessary. You'll see in time; you can't save everyone, no matter how hard you try, so you do what's best for the greatest number of people." His beard trembles at his heavy breaths,

"I guess that didn't include my mother then," I say as I lean back.

"Damn it, boy! I didn't want your mother to die, I lov-" I jump forward and slap my own hands down on the table.

"No, you didn't; people don't leave those they love behind, no matter the circumstances, no matter the danger. You didn't love her, you left, you left and didn't even look back." His mouth twitches, and his lips part as if to speak, but screaming comes from outside.

I push myself from my seat, partly grateful for the interruption. I walk towards the door with Lydia following close behind. "We're not finished yet, Markus, sit back down." I turn to see Draener standing with a look of pure rage.

"We'll see each other again, I'm sure of it." I turn back and push the door open, stepping out into the shivering winds. The sun is hanging low in the sky, the horizon is laced with strands of purple, red, and orange. A woman's screams comes from a large crowd down the road.

"Filthy animals! All of you!" I push my way through the crowd until I can see the owner of the screams. Fae stands in the middle of a circle of people, her face is red and tear-stained, the veins in her neck sticking out as she screams out absurdities at the crowd. A guard steps toward her and reaches out to her.

"Fae, I'm sorry, Talos will guide Lea to sovngarde now, but you can't continue to-"

Fae pushes the guard away forcefully, and propels herself toward the crowd. "The butcher is here! He walks among us! You ignorant bastards refuse to see it!" her bottom lip quiver as she speaks, her brow is covered in thick lines, "My Lea was taken from me! And still nothing will be done! Well if that's the case then I hope he takes your child," she points toward the guard, "and yours," she points to a woman in the crowd, gasps and murmurs escape the onlooker's lips, "and yours," she points again in the crowd.

She almost points to another face in the crowd, but I step forward and gently take her hand in mine, and pull her toward me firmly until she's by my side. I face away from the crowd, but she looks at them head on. "Calm yourself, Fae, this isn't the place-" she tries to push herself from me, but I hold her roughly.

She squirms away like a child, so I release her. "YOU!" She screams even louder now, "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! You thought you'd caught him, but I knew! I KNEW! But no one would listen to me! I hope he kills you all! Every one of you and your children!" She looks fiercely at those who she undoubtedly once called her friends, her neighbors, her kinsman.

"Fae," a soft male voice says. The crowd parts as a rather defeated looking middle aged Nord steps toward the enraged woman. Her face softens just a bit, but maintains her fierce glare. "Fae, love," the man walks forward, his eyes begin to gleam in sadness.

"It's his fault, Jory, it's their fault, they didn't listen…" her voices drowns off into a whimper as the man approaches, shaking his head gently with tears on the edge of his eyes.

"No, darling, Lea's death was none of their fault. They couldn't have-"

"They could have stopped him!" She turns her glare on me, "YOU COULD HAVE STOPPED HIM!" The man steps forward and encircles her in his arms, holding her tightly to him. She lets hims hold her, but doesn't stop glaring at me.

He backs away after a minute, "Let's go home," he says in a defeated voice. Jory takes her hand but she slips her own out of his grasp for a moment. She walks over to me, her glare now lessened into a small scowl. She stops mere inches away.

"My daughter is dead, she's dead. Not 'fine'. **Dead**. I thought you should know that before you make more false promises, Dragonborn." With a hiccupped breath, she turns away and takes her husband's hand and they walk away from the scene.

The people linger and stare at me for a few judgmental moments but then disperse. I see Lydia's somewhat saddened face as she comes to stand by my side. Another face stares back at me. Draener looks as if he might say something, but he just shakes his head and walks toward me. He brushes by me as he walks back to the palace of the kings.

* * *

_**Author's Note: I thought this chapter was kinda dull, but it's setting up for next chapter so we can get some angst from Markus! They'll catch the real killer next chapter, and maybe have another encounter with Draener, either next chapter or later on. Please let me know which one you would prefer! **_

_**After the next chapter I'm hoping to have a chapter purely from Mephala's viewpoint to fill in some of the holes that you might be confused about! I'm actually really excited about that chapter, though it'll probably be really short. **_

_**Speaking of Mephala, she'll start popping up now in the real world, instead of pulling Markus into her realm. It might get kinda confusing since she'll show up in different forms, so I'll just stick with the gold eyes as her trademark. **_

_**Thank you so much for all the favs, follows and reviews! I never thought I'd even get close to 50 follows, and it means a lot! Thanks a lot and I'll really try to have the next chapter up really soon for you guys! **_


	18. Little Red and the Butcher

_**Author's Note: Hey guys! Okay so I know, I'm so late with this update it's not even funny. It's been so insane this quarter in school I don't know how I made it out alive, though my grades came out a little worse for wear -_- Anyway, between school, lacrosse, sickness, etc. I was completely miserable. Thank God for spring break. I in all honesty should have had this chapter up way way sooner, but I decided to take a break and let myself relax all the worry lines that I've developed since third quarter began ughhh...**_

_**Anyway, here's the newest chapter! Sorry if there's any spelling errors, my brain is still a little fizzled...**_

* * *

**Lydia **

Markus just stands there as his father brushes past him, his eyes are fixed in the direction the woman had left with her husband in. He lets out a large sigh which makes his adam's apple bob slightly. His green eyes look tired and distant, faint lines have appeared below the green orbs and his eyelids are drooping unusually low.

Markus closes his eyes a moment and then pulls his hood over his head. Where a tired face had been staring once, there is now the outlines of a wolf's daring glare. The sun is setting and the people of Windhelm are retiring for the night.

The guard who had been trying to calm the woman before had begun walking on ahead down the street. Without a word, Markus makes long strides and catches up with him. I follow behind him as always. When he's close enough, Markus reaches his hand out and touches the guard's chain-linked shoulder. "Guard," he says roughly as the guardsman turns to face him, "what happened to that woman's daughter?"

The guard withdraws his shoulder sharply from Markus's grip. "It's none of your business, **outsider**," the guard spits, "you shouldn't have interfered in affairs that weren't yours-" the guard's words are cut off when Markus shoves him roughly up against the nearest building, bringing his silver knife up under the guard's helmet to his throat.

The guard throws his hands against the building, "What happened?" Markus says in possibly the most serious tone I've ever heard him use.

"What do you think!? She was murdered, just like the rest!" The guard says in a half defensive, half angry voice.

"Where is she now?" Markus says, his voice sounds lower than usual, darker even.

"Her body was taken to the hall of the dead a short while ago," Markus pulls the blade away from the guard's throat and replaces it into its holster. The guard relaxes as Markus turns away and walks back to the street. For a moment I thought the guard would draw his own weapon or call for others to join him, but he just stands there and watches as Markus paces away.

I follow Markus back to the hall of the dead and we enter into the familiar stone doorway. Inside the same grey-haired woman that had been here last time hovers over another body. She turns at the sound of the stone door being pushed shut and looks us over. "So you've returned," she says with a shaky voice, "good, it seems as though the butcher still stalks the streets."

The woman turns back to the table and collects a large bundle of blood soaked linen, she places the bloody cloth into a small bowl and walks away from the young woman's body. "Anything different this time?" Markus says with no hint of emotion as he approaches the body.

A young blonde woman lays on the table, her arms outstretched to either side of her as what remains of her blood trickles down puncture marks on her pale wrists. Small bowls placed below each palm collect the blood as it drips slowly down. "Nothing," Markus's shoulders drop a bit, "they used the same weapon, an embalming tool, and left the same cuts." The woman's voice is soft, her tone wavering just a bit with sadness.

"Do you know when she was killed?" Markus asks, his face still fixed on the young girl's ghostly face.

"Her mother says she never came home last night, so I'd imagine she's been dead since then. A guard found her in the graveyard, same as the last girl." Markus steps back and looks to the older woman, who is now washing her hands in a bucket full of water.

The warm light from the candlesticks on the walls reveal only his chin to the tip of his nose, the rest is hidden below the dark hood. He's biting his bottom lip as he always does when something's bothering him or when he gets stressed. "Is it true they killed the court wizard?"

The woman shakes her hands, sending droplets of red-tinted water flying back into the bucket. "I heard about what happened with the steward," the woman picks up a clean cloth and dries her pale and wrinkled hands, "the guards here gossip worse than any maid or fishwife I've ever met. Anyways, after you left, the steward went to Ulfric and told him about your visit."

"And?" Markus's voice is edgy, either in anger or nerves, I can't tell.

"Well at first Ulfric sent his guards after you, but when you shouted them across the town, and well, Ulfric assumed Wuunferth's execution would….**appease** you I suppose." Markus's lips are curved into a slight frown.

"I didn't….." Markus's voice is weaker now, almost fragile sounding. He clears his throat after a moment of silence and speaks again, "The diaries we found said that the butcher was killing for bone marrow among other things," the woman returns to the girl's body and pulls a dark cloth over her head, "he didn't get a chance to get the marrow from the last girl and if there are no cuts to say he got it from this one-"

"Lea has always been….**delicate**," the woman gives a small sigh as she walks to a small table and takes a seat at one of its chairs, "her bones have always been weaker than normal, her mother protected her fiercely because of it."

"Then why go after Lea? Why kill her if her bones are no good?" I ask as I take a few more steps toward Markus.

"I don't think the butcher knew it was Lea," the woman says with a wavering voice, "he's getting desperate, I think. By the time he realized it was Lea," the woman draws back her hood and rubs her temple, "he couldn't just let her live."

"Thank you." Markus says as he strides toward the stone door and pulls it open. I give a small nod of thanks to the woman and follow him out into the cold night air. "I have an idea." He says flatly as he looks out over the few graves that surround the hall of the dead.

When he doesn't continue I speak up, "Yes, my thane?" He turns and looks down at me, though I can't see more than the tip of his nose under the hood. Instead, I focus on the detailing of the wolf's face sewn into the dark fabric.

"He'll be looking for another girl to kill, I'm sure he's out there right now," I look over the graves and into the small patches of the streets visible from my position, "he's picking victims blindly now, and we can use that to our advantage."

I look up at him, "You're going to use me as bait?"

"Well the locals seem very good at getting themselves killed, so yes, I'm going to use you as bait." No emotions linger in his voice as he speaks, "Go back to the inn, and change into something less…. Protective." He says as he gives my shoulder plate a small tap.

"Without my armor on?" My mouth seems to move on its own, feeding off of nerves that are growing inside me. The pale faces of the butcher's victims brush through my mind, their bloodless paper-thin skin, and the gnarled gashes that littered their bodies force a small shudder down my spine.

"If he sees the armor then he won't go after you." I nod my head in agreement, "Don't worry, Lyd," Markus adds with a tiny smirk pulling at the corner of his lips, "I won't let anything happen to you." I just roll my eyes and turn to walk to the inn.

His hand wraps around my gauntlet and pulls me back. When I look back the smirk is gone and his jaw is clenched. "Once you've changed do a loop around the streets and try to look vulnerable, we need him to feel like he's in control." I nod again and pull slightly on my arm, though Markus doesn't yield, "I'll be on the rooftops," he points up toward the roof of the nearest building. "As soon as I see him I'll use my bow-"

"Of course, my thane." He clenches his jaw and finally lets my hand slip from his grip. I turn and walk away, forcing myself not to look back to see if Markus is doing the same.

* * *

**Markus **

I watch as Lydia treads off quickly through the few graves around us and enter the main streets of Windhelm. As she disappears I make my way to a tall building with large stone ledges and decorations just sturdy enough to climb up.

After a few minutes I find myself on the scaffolding of the building, pulling myself up to the roof. I look down through the streets and find Lydia's familiar shape leading off through the shadows until she reaches the inn. I take a deep breath and pull the cool air in, attempting to calm myself.

My mind wanders off to the butcher, and then an image of Fae's enraged face flashes into my mind. Then Lea's gaunt corpse and how her blood had dripped into small bowls; my mind is cluttered with thoughts of the butcher's handiwork, and Fae's screams.

"_YOU COULD HAVE STOPPED HIM!"_

I rub my forehead roughly with a gloved hand.

"_My daughter is dead. Not 'fine'. __**Dead**__. I thought you should know that before you make more false promises," _

The look on Fae, Lydia, and Draener's face as the woman walked off, holding tightly to her husband….

"Oh, fuck, Draener…." I say, remembering the strange encounter. I pinch the bridge of my nose and clench my eyes shut.

_What am I going to say to him when I see him again? It's not like we can have a 'normal' father-son…..thing…. besides, I won't be around much longer anyway, there's just no point in it. He'll probably be relieved to be rid of me anyway. _

"_Damn it, boy! I didn't want your mother to die, I lov-"_

"He loved her," I say quietly as I look back out over the streets.

_But if that's true, then why did he leave? How could he leave..? If I loved someone I would do whatever I could to find my way back to them. _

"_Sacrifices are necessary."_

_No, sacrifices happen because people __**let**__ them happen._

"And so you're hunting the butcher once again." A sultry voice sounds behind me but I ignore it, instead I listen to the words that had been spoken seemingly forever ago.

"_You will gain wealth, power, land, and love. Of all these things, love shall harbor the greatest rewards for you,"_

My stomach drops when I remember what else Mehpala had told me of my destiny.

"_You will die, Dovahkiin, you will die gasping for breath, trying to cling to life."_

"Markus?"

_**And so the son becomes the father… How ironic. Find your love, leave your love behind to live on without you for the rest of her life, maybe even get her pregnant with your bastard before you go. Only difference is you'll die instead of just leaving. The happy little circle continues. **_

I stand up and pace over to Mephala, the daedric prince is still disguised as Rose. Her smile widens and her eyes hold a mischievous glint in them. I stop a few steps from her, careful to keep at least a bit of distance between us. I almost open my mouth to ask her why she's here, but she speaks first.

"You know, Markus, the hooded look suits you," she steps forward smoothly, bring her arms up around my neck, "makes you more mysterious." I scoff at her comment and she leans in closer, "I don't suppose you've given our…arrangement any more thought?" She leans back as her blue eyes try to gauge my reaction.

In the corner of my eye, a scarlet blur catches my attention. I pull her hands from my neck and walk to the edge of the roof to see Lydia's burgundy cloak rustling in the breeze as she scampers through the streets; her form appearing in the glow from the occasional light post before passing back into the shadows of the streets. "I'm busy right now."

I watch as Lydia begins her loop around the city and I scan through the shadows looking for anything suspicious. "Markus," I pay no mind to the demanding voice behind me until nails dig into my chin and a slim hand forces me to look over to her gaze. "I'm not leaving here without an answer," I pull her hand from my face and look back to the city, seeing no sign of Lydia for a moment.

My heart beats faster until her burgundy cloak floats back into the light as she continues on. I breathe in a sigh of relief and turn back to Mephala, "No, I haven't given it any thought." Her brow creases over.

"You know that's not the answer I meant. Yes or no, Markus, it's a simple decision." I turn back to watching Lydia as she weaves her way through the lights and around the streets. Only guards walk the paths with her, though somewhere among the shadows a killer lurks. The idea that Lydia is so close to him bothers me, especially since she doesn't have her armor or weapons, but this is what had to be done.

I think back to what Mephala is going on about; the dragon souls, my death, her power, blah blah blah… "Simple?" I ask with an edge to my voice, I scoff at her words before continuing, "How is that possibly simple?" I take a moment before beginning to think aloud. "If I say yes and give you the souls and you use them in- let's just say- 'ill will', well then I'm dead and gone and can't stop you." The truth in my words hangs in the air, and I look over to see Mephala with a heavy look in her eyes.

"And no offense but I honestly can't see you using these powers to rescue kittens and orphans." Her stare is icy and her is jaw clenched tight as if that her gaze alone will change the course of my mind.

"Make your choice." I turn from Mephala and watch as Lydia passes through one of the main streets and makes her way to a back street; a dark figure stirs from the shadows for a moment, but then disappears into the blackness. I reach for my bow and hold it at my side as my gaze follows the red cloak as it floats along, edging ever further from the main streets and closer to the graveyard.

Lydia comes into the clearing, her pale face reveals her panic, it's obvious she knows he's been following her, been **stalking** her, and still is. "**Markus**." Mephala barks from across the roof.

"I'm busy," I say as my eyes sift through the darkened alleys, I pull an arrow from my quiver and pull it loosely against the bowstring of my bow, which is still at my side. Suddenly a figure dashes out from the shadows, a shimmering blade is clutched at his side as he moves swiftly among the shade, dodging and winding around the gravestones as he moves.

I raise my bow and take aim at the butcher, Lydia turns at the sound of his approach. I release my arrow- only to have it fall right in front of me as a snap sounds from my bow. The limbs of my bow shoot forward, and the bowstring whips back against my chin.

"I said," a dark voice says at my side, hot breath brushes against my stinging chin. I look to see Mephala's fiery golden gaze boring into me, "make your choice." A purple light bursts from her hand and she lands a quick blow to my stomach. Electricity shoots me back across the roof.

* * *

**Lydia **

"My thane!" I call, my voice only shaking slightly. I search the rooftops above me trying to find any sign of Markus, but the rooftops appear to be empty. I look back to the butcher, "well, shit," I mumble as I duck down quickly and pull a small knife from my boot.

_Thank Talos I had the mind to bring this with me from the inn…_

I push my cloak back over my shoulders and brace myself as the butcher lunges forward, the embalming tool aimed straight for my throat.

* * *

**Markus **

I roll onto my back as pain spreads through my chest, the air thick with the smell of burning flesh. Small curses escape my throat as I push myself up and to a standing position. I look up to see Mephala standing across the way with an almost unnoticeable curl on her lips. "My thane!" Lydia's voice calls from below.

I look to see my bow's unstrung frame next to Mephala, I turn to jump down off the right side of the roof, but something pulls me back and slams me back down against the roof's hard surface, my hand landing awkwardly under my back. A small snap comes from my wrist, another flash of pain spreads through me, another curse escapes my lips. "I'm tired of waiting!" Mephala screams as she comes to stand over me.

I try to push myself up but before I can Mephala holds out her hand with her fingers outstretched over me, a purple aura pushes me back roughly against the roof and holds me down hard enough that my breathing is labored. "Thane!" Lydia cries more frantically this time.

* * *

**Lydia **

I manage to push the embalming tool away from my throat, though its blade grazes my cheek, sending warm droplets of blood sliding down my cheek. The butcher fumbles forward a few steps before turning again to meet my gaze.

His face is familiar, though I can't place it, not now anyhow. His eyes are heavy with pure rage, his expression is murderous…..for lack of a better word. He bares his teeth like a mad dog and dashes toward me again. "Thane!" I call out again, now more in fear than wariness.

* * *

**Markus**

"Get….off.. me!" I say as I try to push against her magic but each time I manage to lift myself off the roof I'm shoved back to it, the force of the shove growing each time.

"Yes, or no." She says flatly as she curls her fingers in, the pressure feels as if it's crushing me. Her brow is twisted with frustration.

_Shout! Use a shout! C'mon…._

I try to suck in a breath, but the pressure of the aura makes it impossible to get enough air for a shout. The echoes of movement from below ring around us, the clashing of blades, the shuffling of feet, all the sounds of a fight, and I'm stuck underneath purple light being squeezed to death. "No," is all I can manage to get out.

Her eyes flash in surprise before her face goes completely straight. She drops her hand to her side and takes a tiny step back. Suddenly where Rose's soft face was staring down at me, Mephala's harshly angled one is now. Her hair having turned black as night and her skin as pale as snow, she smiles her infamously wide smile as a black portal opens behind her. "Very well then." Is all she says before she steps back into the blackness, her smile being the last thing to disappear.

I jump up and run to the roof's edge, ignoring the burning feeling that now accompanies the sudden burst of air in my lungs. I land in a roll to ease the fall and then run to help Lydia.

* * *

**Lydia **

The butcher lunges forward once more, and I deflect the embalming tool with my knife. I back up a few paces closer to the buildings and see Markus sprinting over from my left. In a split second of inattention, the butcher lunges once more like a feral dog and lands a scratch on my arm. I make a small shriek of pain, which brings a small chuckle from the butcher's wild grin.

"_Wuld!_" comes from Markus and before I know it, a gust of wind whistles by me, carrying Markus and the butcher with it. A loud thud sounds and I look to see Markus pinning the butcher up against a building, punching him repeatedly about the face, with flames encircling his fists.

The butcher cries out in agony as his face is beaten and charred. All of a sudden the man's face slumps to the side, his skin beginning to melt down his face. Markus mumbles something incoherently before letting the man's body fall lifelessly against the ground.

* * *

**Markus **

I turn back to Lydia and take a deep breath, trying to collect myself and focus on her. "Well, that's that." I say with a forced smile on my face. Her eyes shift from the man's body to my eyes, her blue orbs filling suddenly with anger.

"_That's that_!?" Her eyebrows shoot up, "I could've been killed, what were you doing up there!?"

"I….There was a….complication..." I hope she'll continue on without explanation, but her eyes bare into me and demand more of an answer. "I couldn't get a good shot off from where I was." Mephala's cool grin creeps back into my mind, the way she'd just let me go after refusing her…and the way she'd said "Very well then." Sounded more like a declaration of war than an acceptance of rejection…..

I look back to Lydia to see something unexpected in her blue eyes; fear. Her eyes grow just a bit glossy, and I realize how scared she must've been when I hadn't shown up. She turns away from me quickly and begins to walk away but I catch her arm and spin her around.

I open my mouth to speak but find myself at a loss for words at the sight of the tears in her eyes.

_I'm always so bad with crying people…_

A small cut on her cheek slowly drips blood, staining her soft pale skin. I reach out and bring healing magic into my hand, the warm orange light passes through my hand easily now through plenty of practice.

I cup her jaw in my palm as I run my thumb over the small cut, the skin quickly mending itself. I lean down and brush my lips over the healed cut, giving the scarlet stained skin a quiet apology before I pull away and turn back to the dead butcher.

* * *

**Lydia **

I stand there with wide eyes for a moment, trying to grasp what just happened. I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. I watch as Markus swiftly pulls the butcher's battered frame over his shoulder and stands steadily. He turns back and strides over to me, "Here, grab my coin pouch," I quickly do as he says as if I'm in a strange daze, "go back to the inn and get some food and some rest, I think we both could use some." I nod in response, "I'll be there shortly, I've just gotta drop him off with the guards."

His green eyes look down at me with a soft expression, a caring, worried, comforting expression. He gives me a small nod before brushing by, leaving me standing here one hand on my cheek, the other grasping his coin purse.

* * *

_**Yeah, I got a little impatient, I had to put a little something cute in there, anyway, let me know what you thought about this chapter please! I could really use some nice encouraging things right now :) I'll get working on the next chapter right away so hopefully I can get another one out before break ends but I wouldn't count on it... **_

_**Thanks a ton for all the favs, follows, and reviews! Makes my sickly self feel all fuzzy inside so keep it up, eh? Thanks again :) Next chapter will finish this night up in Windhelm and then we'll get to see Mephala's thoughts on things! **_

_**SO...STAY TUNED FOR... **_

_**"Musings of a Madwoman" **_

_**p.s. I freaking love that as a chapter name...**_


	19. Musings of a Madwoman

_**Author's Note: Woa! I'm back so soon this time! Go productivity! I got my laptop fixed so I was able to multitask and get this chapter written in basically a day and I'm super tired right now since it's like 12 AM so pay no mind to any errors, though I read through it this time like I said it's 12, stuff is bound to be missed. I really wanted to get this chapter out before I go back to school in two days so here it is! Please enjoy :)**_

_**Btw, the format is different on my laptop, so when I uploaded some of the Italics changed to normal print, I think I changed it all back, but it's just a warning. :)**_

* * *

**Markus**

I walk past Lydia hesitantly, giving a quick look back to see her standing in the same place, staring off into the night. Her short dark hair sweeps across her face in a light breeze, the red cloak circles around her and my gaze drifts to a tear of the fabric on her arm surrounded by a dark stain.

I'm tempted to drop the corpse off my shoulder and turn back to heal her again, but I pull myself away and walk through the dark alleys and back onto the main roads. My chest begins to throb painfully from the lightning Mephala used on me, and my left wrist feels just flat out awful and I wonder how many different places it's been broken in.

But all that can be dealt with later, and I guess in a way I kind of deserve the pain anyway. I shouldn't have used Lydia as bait, or better yet I should've told Lyd about Mephala in the first place. I walk a little oddly through the city streets, the weight of the burly man is beginning to weigh down on my increasingly sore shoulder, the slams against the rooftop didn't help.

_Thank you, daedric bitch…_

I round a corner and catch sight of what seems to be a small gathering of guards at a light post.

_Probably all complaining about wanting mead and cuddly blankets. _

I pick up my pace a little and force myself out of the odd slumping walk and make it look effortless carrying this fat lug around. As soon as I come into the light the three guards turn and jump back just a little. "Good evening gentle-guards," I say as cheerily as I can manage as I let the man's body roll off my shoulder and slam down to the ground in the middle of their little gathering.

The guards look at each other for a moment and one of them places his hand on the hilt of his sword, "One butcher, free of charge." The guard drops his hand and kneels to the butcher's body and flips him over onto his back.

Half of his face is melted and mangled where I struck him, leaving no way to identify him. The guard turns his face to the other side and my stomach drops.

"Calixto Corrium?" One guard says questioningly. "**He's** the butcher!?" My head feels light and my breath gets heavy.

"Are you feeling alright? You look rather pale," another guard says as he rests a gloved hand on my shoulder.

He'd been one of the original three at the scene of the murder of the first girl I'd seen. It was him, all along. He'd been there from the start. I remember how when I'd spoken to him at the graveyard how he'd had some blood on his arm, and how he's said it was from checking if she was alive…but there was no smudge marks of the blood on her body.

My hands reflexively slam themselves against my forehead. "Hey, are you okay?" a heavy Nordic accent asks.

"I'm a fucking idiot." I could've prevented Fae's daughter from being killed, I could've saved her, if I had just taken a minute from playing at hero and looked at what was in front of me. But now Fae's girl and the mage's deaths are on my hands, almost Lydia's too.

"Nobody knew who it was-" a guard begins, but another guard cuts him off.

"Well, I could've guessed it was him, always holed up in that freak-show shop of his."

I drop my hands and look down at the face below me. Though I only mangled half his face, both sides are twisted. One with charred flesh, the other with the calm straight predatory stare of a killer, even in death. And all I can think is… "He almost got Lyd, too." Flashes of his previous two victims cross my mind, the first girl, Susanna, and the latest one, Lea….Guilt suddenly sweeps over me, making me sick to my stomach.

"Got who? He almost got who?" The one guard speaks again. My head snaps back up from the butcher's twisted face., the suddenness of it causing the guard to jump back a little more.

"Where does Fae and her husband live?" I ask rather forwardly. The guards look at each other as if consulting one another of how insane I sound.

"Perhaps you should rest, Dragonborn, you must be tired after taking down the butcher-"

"I'm fine, where does she live?" The guard looks once more to his companions before letting out a sigh and pointing up a stone set of stairs that lead to a residential part of town.

"Just up there, take a left and look for a house with blue some blue mountain flowers outside; Lea had been growing some before she- just don't go there tonight, Fae really should get some rest and have a chance to mourn."

"After that spectacle in the middle of the street earlier I hope her husband keeps her bound up in the house for at least a few days." Says the guard to my right. I ignore him and I almost brush by them before I turn back and look down at the butcher one last time.

But when I look at his 'good' half, I nearly jump a foot back. A twisted smile is curled at the edge of his bloodied lips, a silent chuckle is held in his cold dead eyes. The guards follow my gaze and one of them flat out walks away, his hands held out in front of him as he says, "I'm done, I'm so done right now."

The three of us just stare down at Calixto for a few moments before one of the other guards uses his foot to roll him over onto his chest so that he's face down on the ground. I slowly turn away, and try to forget that happened. As I walk up the stone stairs, I hear the third guard still chanting on, "I just, I'm so done with this horse-shit! It's really beginning to freak me the fuck out, man! This town- this country is fucked! First the dragons are back, and if that's not bad enough this 'butcher' shit and now some kid rumored to be holding himself up in some warehouse somewhere in town calling on the dark brotherhood!"

As I reach the top, I see the guard standing only a few feet away talking to a guardswoman who nods her head in agreement. "Aye, when we were kids all we did was play with war axes, but now it's the occult shit that draws the little fuckers in….." I hold back a snort and hurry past them.

I walk down the street quickly until I come to a small stone house. Small pots are scattered near the entrance of the gate. All filled with withered, blue flowers which are dieing if not already dead.

Guilt floods me even more now and I find my throat growing heavy at the thought of Lea, what she might've been like, what she could've done, and what she'll never be able to do again. Like grow some simple blue mountain flowers in pots by her gate.

* * *

**Lydia**

I walk smoothly along, rubbing my cheek every once in a while and tossing the coin purse between my hands. A smug smile on my face and a hum in my chest. With every pass of the purse between my hands, a small wave of Markus's earthy scent fills the air, making me forget that **ex**haling is necessary, too.

Suddenly, I snatch myself from my little daze. Here I was practically swooning over a simple peck on the cheek. And apparently I'd forgotten already how he'd just beaten a man to death with a fiery fist of death!

**_Fiery fist of death? Yeah, you should tell him that sometime, he'd get a kick out of that. _**

"Shut up," I mumble to myself.

_The point is, he changes so quickly it's hard to make a judgment about him. He's happy, he's mad, he's happy again then he goes into a rampage and…..then kisses me on the cheek and heals me, not for the first time either. _

_**Then again, it could be he was just being….protective.**_

For once, something reason says makes me giddy inside. I find the smug smile on my face once more as I subconsciously toss the purse again, sending his scent around me once more.

I reach the inn quickly but check behind me every so often, just to be sure. I pull open the heavy wooden door to the inn to see it's not very busy, and the barkeep isn't preoccupied, so I walk over to the bar. "Can I get two rooms for the night and two dinners, too?" The barkeep looks down bitterly at me.

"That depends, are you going to be here when the food actually gets done, or are you going to order it and walk out again?" I roll my eyes, the last thing I need is a bar tender with an attitude.

"No, I'll be at that table over there," I point to a table in the back, knowing that that's where Markus would like to sit.

The burly bald man looks at the table I pointed to and squints suspiciously, "Fine," he grumbles, "but I'm watching you."

I lay the coins down on the counter and he pours me two meads to bring back to the table. I sit down and think on the events of the night.

* * *

**Markus**

I take a deep breath before I push the squeaky gate open and walk up to the wooden door. I almost turn away, I'm just not good with crying people.

_Soo…. If she cries, I'm screwed...and if she doesn't cry, she'll probably try to kill me, so I'll pretty much make an ass of myself either way, it just depends if it involves having to kill a mourning mother or not, really. _

I give three heavy knocks on the door, but then regret it immediately, one because I really don't like dealing with this kind of thing, two because I knocked with my left hand and now my wrist is screaming in pain again.

I wait for a few moments until the heavy door is pulled open. The husband, Jory, stands at the door, his eyes heavy with lack of sleep, his wrinkles deeper than how they seemed only hours ago. Behind him I can see the brightness of a fireplace telling me he wasn't in bed, and didn't plan on it for a while.

"Uh, hi," I say in an awkwardly quiet tone.

His eyes flash and it's obvious he recognizes me from the earlier encounter in the street. "What do you want?" He says with subtle hostility.

"I, uh, I was wondering if I could come in for a moment and-"

"I don't think that's such a good idea," he says quickly.

"Jory? Jory who is it?" Calls a woman's rough voice from around the place where the fire glows.

"No one, love, I'll just be a minute." He calls back as he steps outside and pulls the door closed. "Now what is it you want?" His tired eyes look at me bitterly. I think for a moment how strange it is he came outside to begin with. **I **could be the butcher for all he knows, I could kill **him** too. But something tells me he just doesn't care anymore.

I look down at the ground, the guilt rising all the more with every second I stare into his empty eyes. "We caught him," I clear my throat, "the butcher, we caught him, the **real** one."

He takes a deep breath, "Well I hope for your sake it really was him this time." I look up to find him turning back to his door. Without thinking I reach out and grasp his arm. He snaps back from my hand, "Don't touch me!" he cracks.

I step back, wishing there was someway to make him feel my sincerity. "I-I'm sorry," I breathe out, "look, I'm not good at this but," I take a deep breath in, "I'm sorry about Lea-"

"Please don't say her name," his eyes fill with small, burning tears.

"Sorry," I take a deep breath, "I know Fae may think it's my fault,"

**_And it is….._**

"but I did the best I could,"

**_Ha! That's a lie….._**

"and I just wanted to-" I would've finished my sentence, except it's a little hard when a fist is being rammed into your jaw.

Instead of trying to catch myself, I just let my legs give out from under me. It's not that it was a particularly good punch, I've had way worse, but getting your frustration out doesn't work when the person stays on their feet.

So I just lay back and listen to the man's rapid, ragged breaths as he stammers t speak, "Points f-for effort, t-then." he finally says before swinging the wooden door open and entering with a slam.

**_Well, at least he didn't light you on fire, Markus. Take what you can get._**

_Shut the fuck up._

I pull myself up, making sure to not use my left hand, and walk out of the gate. As I walk back down the street I look back and sigh.

_Fuck, I'm bad at these things. _

* * *

**Lydia**

I take another swig of my mead and a bite of the bland meat in front of me.

_"Food is food, it keeps you going. It doesn't need to taste good." _

An old voice says in my head; the low grizzly voice of the guard commander back in Whiterun. He'd told me that when I'd first been allowed to train to be a guard, more specifically when us recruits were all staring blankly at the first sloppy lunch we'd ever eaten in the barracks.

It's funny looking back and thinking of things that have been told to you, only to see how true they really are. I take a bite of the cheese wedge on my plate and chase it down with another sip of mead. I look at the untouched plate of food and jug of mead across from me. In all honesty, Markus should've been back a while ago.

A slow sinking feeling starts in my chest and I stare at the wooden door, hoping for it to open. After a few minutes I turn back to my food, telling myself I'm just overreacting, and that Markus will be back any minute.

I take a few more bites of my dinner when the heavy door swings open. My head snaps to the entrance, only to see a big burly Nord man walk in and take a seat at the bar.

_That's it. I'm going to look for him. _

I stand and turn to walk toward the door, when it swings open again. This time it really is Markus. He strides in as smoothly as ever, though his face seems tired and he's biting his lower lip as he always done when something is bothering him. I sit back down when our eyes meet and he makes his way over.

In his right hand he grasps his bow, only now the limbs of the elegant bow are free and unbound. The bowstring that once held the limbs of the bow close together is now gone and the frame of the bow is far longer than before. He strides over and rests the bow frame up against the table before taking a seat.

"What happened?" I say, still looking at the bow.

He glances up at me as he begins to remove his left glove. He follows my gaze to his bow and then looks back down to his glove. "Like I said, there were some complications." his face wrinkles for a split second in pain as he tugs his black glove off, revealing his wrist to be severely swollen.

My eyes go wide in surprise as I wonder just how many complications there were tonight. I look up to his face to see a red mark on his jaw. "And what happened there?" I point to his jaw and he brings his right hand up to rub the mark roughly.

"Lyd, don't worry about it." he gives a small smile as if mocking me for my concerned tone. He reaches over and takes a quick swig of mead from his mug, then after slamming the mug back down a familiar orange light appears in his right hand.

_How many times has he used healing just in this night? Seems he has to use it more than he should. _

Markus takes a breath and wraps his hand around his left wrist and with a small flick of his hand and a painful intake of breath, he shifts the bone back into place and then lets the healing magic do it's thing.

_It must be really repetitive to heal himself all the time, why doesn't he just be more careful? _

"There," he says looking up with a smirk, "all better." His skin seems paler than before, slight dark rings circle his eyes, and it's apparent he's been biting his lips for while since they're chapped and split on one side.

After all the time I've spent around Markus it's getting easier to tell the real smirks from the forced ones. And the one he's giving me now is most definitely forced. There's something wrong with him.

_But what?_

* * *

**Markus**

I look back to my bow between bites every so often as I eat the now cold dinner. I'm not that hungry, but I haven't eaten in a while and feel like it's about time that I do. So I force the mysterious meat down and try not to shiver as it slides down my throat in a most unappetizing way.

My father's voice just repeats over and over in my head.

_"You listen to me, **boy**, I have been in war all my life, and sacrifices are necessary. You'll see in time; you can't save everyone, no matter how hard you try, so you do what's best for the greatest number of people."_

I squeeze my eyes shut as I take another swig.

Lydia's gaze lingers on me as she eats what's left of her food but it's the softer gaze she's been showing recently, the one that makes her look like an actual woman instead of the usual wall or wolf shrouds.

Guilt fills me once more, though I can't even tell why anymore. It might be because I haven't told her of Mephala, or that I used her as bait, or that….or that…. Oh I don't even know anymore. "You keep looking at your bow," she says softly. I look up into her blue eyes, but when I make no move to answer she continues, "you'll have to restring it, I have a few spare bowstrings in my pack."

I nod and give a small smile, for some reason words seem hard to find right now. Whether it's the guilt or the way those blue orbs are looking at me, I can't tell. "Thanks, Lyd," I take a quick chug of mead to counteract the dryness of my mouth, "but I'll do it tomorrow," she wipes her mouth with the backside of her bare hand and places her mug on her plate, "tonight I just want to get some sleep."

She gives me a smile, a small one, but a genuine smile. "I agree," she says as she pushes her chair out and stands, "if there is nothing else…?" she says in a questioning tone. I shake my head and she begins to walk away.

I watch as her red cloak sways as she walks but before long she turns back with a bit of a mischievous grin, "Oh, I almost forgot," she says as she tosses something onto the table, the object lands with a muffled chime, "goodnight, my thane." she says in a hum before she turns and disappears down the hall to the tenant rooms.

"Sorry, Lyd," I say as I pluck the coin purse from the table and push my own chair out. I stand and grab my bow from the table and hold it loosely in my hand. The carvings wind all around it and I find my other hand wandering to the knife holster on my leg, which now also holds the arrow that was meant for the butcher in it. My grasp on my bow tightens reflexively.

I look back to the hallway Lydia left to, "it won't happen again."

* * *

**Mephala**

My mind drifts back to when all this began. With Draener and his soldiers helplessly chopping their way through the thick wood of the Valen. At first I thought it'd be funny to give him the amulet and watch him take it gratefully and then days later when he and his men were starving watch as he cursed the infernal necklace that'd steered him wrong.

But then the elf bitch found him, and led him through the wood. I had half a mind to kill them both then and there. But I watched as they grew feelings for each other, the budding of a forbidden flower of romance begin to bloom, and well, call me a romantic, I decided to not dismember them slowly as they screamed for mercy.

In the end I got what I wanted, the entertaining death of a few Nord soldiers. Only it happened all the more gloriously than I'd anticipated. I'd be lying if I said I still didn't get….excited thinking about it. But what I didn't count on was the elf getting pregnant. **That** was even better.

I'd planned to let Draener die in Thalmor hands but something told me to get him out, and what a marvelous idea that was, having daddy thrown back into the mix makes everything so much more confusing for poor Markus, so much more conflicting. It's delicious.

For a time I'd just bided my time, watching Markus grow in the Valen, separated from his half-kinsman by something he could never change about himself. It was entertaining enough. But I grew bored. It wasn't hard to steer the Thalmor right to Markus and his mother, in fact it was a little too easy.

All I did was kill an elf girl, transform into her and run along to tell some Thalmor scout that a Halfling was being sheltered in the clan. The Thalmor connected the dots on their own from where the Halfling came from. Sure, it could've been even more simple, I could've skipped killing the girl, but I don't like walking around disguised as someone knowing there's another 'me' out there. I like to be unique.

I've checked in on Markus every once in a while since then, for no particular reason other than my own amusement. But I hadn't counted on him being the Dragonborn. But that is a twist not even I could see coming. It's breathtaking, really. The most unlikely little Halfling ending up being a hero of legend.

My attention snaps back to the task at hand. I look through one of my small portals into the mortal realm, into the rather dull settings of the inn and the far more interesting characters who inhabit it.

"it won't happen again." I can't help but laugh at Markus's determined look, what with his set jaw, serious gaze, and deep and smooth voice. He's cute, I'll give him that, but these mortals are so moronic. He'd given me an answer, but certainly not the one I wanted to hear, and now he's given me a direct line to get what I want.

With one snap another portal appears next to the first one, showing me Lydia's smiling face as she prepares herself for bed. Markus on the other hand walks to his room and sits down with a heavy sigh on his bed.

Lydia flops on her bed and pulls something from her pocket. I look closely to see something I'd thought was lost; the amulet I'd given Draener is held tightly in between her fingers as she holds it toward the flame of a small candle by her bed. The light filters through it, sending strands of light all over the room.

The way she gazes at it…..like it's a treasure of her own, reminds me all too much of a familiar old oaf of a self proclaimed high king. My smile grows from ear to ear as an idea creeps into my mind. I close the portal to Lydia's room and look back to Markus's. He pulls the top of his armor off to reveal a charred handprint in the middle of his chest. He winces while pulling the close fitting armor off and down stares at my handprint for a few moments in slight confusion. I laugh at the bewildered Dragonborn.

"Gotcha," I say as I laugh once more happy to have left a mark on him, he starts healing the mark, still rather confused, probably on how my magic went straight through his armor, "oh, Markus," I say through the portal, he jumps back and ends up laying on his bed, he looks around the room frantically trying to find me, "I think you could do with some thicker armor."

With one hand I sweep the portal away and give a final chuckle of how simple and easy this will be after all. I have to give it to Markus, not many mortals would refuse a daedric prince's request. But then again, he's not like many other mortals.

I lean back in my chair and look around this realm I've made for myself. A forest surrounds my little 'dark throne' as the other daedric princes have nicknamed it, and eternal storm being waged all around me, yet I feel none of it. Not a drop of rain, not a gust of wind, nothing.

I envy the fleshy meat sacks sometimes. They can feel their realm, they can touch and feel and interact with each other in a way the daedra, well I at least, wish I could.

But then again, feelings are for the weak, they make the mortals do pathetic things for each other, and that just make it all the more fun to screw with them. That's what made Draener so fascinating for me, he fell prey to his feelings at first, but when it came time to decide between his 'love' for the elf or for his country, he'd chosen to go back to a cold harsh wasteland. He was strong, and in the end that's probably why I saved him from death at the hands of those elves.

Every other flesh sack would've surely chosen their mate than their homeland. But most also fail to see the bigger pictures in their insignificant lives. And that sad fact makes them terribly predictable.

But this time it's different. I'm not just screwing with another flesh sack. It's the Dragonborn I'm after, which just makes things all the more thrilling. More specifically, it's the dragon souls I'm after, but I have to play things right, otherwise I mid as well kiss my chances at wielding that power goodbye.

Then again I have a nice new assistant just waiting to help me, the thought makes me grin. "Oh, **Lyd**, you just might be useful after all." Suddenly a lone crow flies through the storm and passes right by me. I roll my eyes and lean back. "You know, if you wanted my company so bad, you could have just asked me over to your realm for a while."

I turn my head and search for the nightingale, and see a swarm of a mixture of black birds such as crows and nightingales black out the grey sky of my realm. "Sounds lovely, however it seems you've been avoiding me lately." I look in front of my throne to see Nocturnal standing before me, her normal deep purple robe covering the top half of her face, leaving only her nose and black painted lips visible. Her robe dips far below her breasts, practically to her navel.

Raven feathers adorn the shoulders of her robe and a tear in her robe stretches all the way up her thigh and almost to her hip. She wears no shoes, but I suppose when you can turn into a raven, you have no need for shoes anyway. "Terribly sorry if I made you feel like that, but I've been busy."

Her black lips are in a straight line, as they always are, her pale arms are crossed in front of her upper abdomen. "Yes, it seems you certainly have."

"I sense an accusation coming on, out with it then." The flock of birds grows thicker than before, more hectic. I reach up quick as can be, and snatch a crow in my palm, bringing it back down to me. I see Nocturnal's mouth twitch as I hold the bird tightly in my hand as I stroke it gently. The terror in its eyes makes my fangs tingle.

"Stay away from my charges." She says flatly.

"I'm afraid I don't follow."

"Don't play game with me, web spinner!" her voice screeches through the air, and I can feel my fangs grow larger at the sound of that horrid nickname.

"I can assure you there are no games here," I lean forward on my throne and cross my legs, "however I can't promise there are no webs being spun." She gives me a small snarl. I rub the bird's neck between my thumb and pointer finger for a moment before swiftly snapping it's neck. She gives a small hiss, though she makes an effort to stop herself. "Oops," I say, tossing the bird to the side.

"Leave the Dragonborn alone." I give her a blank, confused stare. Doing my best to play dumb. "Markus Derrain! Leave him be!"

I give a face of realization, knowing that Nocturnal is too stubborn to fall for my acting. "Ooohhh, is he one of yours?" She takes an angry step forward.

"You **know** he is." she says bitterly.

"He wasn't wearing your armor, how was I to know who he **belonged** to?"

"Why do you think I've been trying to find you, it's not as if I enjoy your company." I laugh at that.

"Oh," I say, catching my breath, "oh now **that** hurt, sister." I say as I feign wiping a tear from my eye. I reach back up and snatch another bird from the sky, this time I snag myself a nightingale.

"He's part of the thieves guild, therefore he's under my protection. If you go near him, I'll end you myself." my fangs begin cutting into my lower gums, though I feel no pain from it. Nocturnal almost turns and transforms back into a raven, but she stops and turns back for a moment, "And we are **not** _sisters_."

With a flip of her cloak, she transforms back into a black nightingale and flies from my realm. I slump back in my seat and mumble to myself while stroking the bird. "Webspinner, huh? You have no idea…." I say as plan after plan connects in my head….spinning a beautiful new web. One almost as wickedly lovely as me.

I look down at the plump little bird in my hand. "It's your lucky day birdy," I say as I open my palm and watch as the bird spreads its wings and takes off after Nocturnal's horde of birds. The bird glides through gracefully- until my web encircles it and drags it from the sky.

I lean back and laugh loudly, letting my fangs slip out of my their sheathes and slip outside my mouth as the bird is dragged back to me.

* * *

**Ulfric Stormcloak**

I look out my window as the sun rises over the city, my city, my Windhelm. Galmar drones on about ways to strike at Whiterun, though my mind is in other places this morning.

Support for my army is waning, for me to defeat the Empire for good I would need at least double the army I have now, and there seems to be no one left willing to fight for Skyrim anymore.

_Talos guide me…. _

"Yes, yes, Galmar, that's enough for now, I think." I interrupt him gently, not wanting him to continue speaking on an impossible mission. I turn and sit at war table alongside my two most trusted allies.

Galmar Stone-Fist, my second in command as well as my housecarl, the one I've been able to count on since the very beginning.

And now Draener, the leader of the old rebellions, he was considered a hero here in Whiterun when we heard news of him leading an attack at the heart of the Empire. We'd heard long ago though that no one came home from that attack, but at least he made it back. At least there's a tiny glimmer of hope for Skyrim as long as there are those who believe we can still save it from these Empire scum.

"Wait," I say as an idea forms in my head, "Draener, the Dragonborn led you back here to us, right?" Draener is sitting across from me, his brow scrunched as if he's asked me a question before he's even spoken.

"In a way…I suppose," he rolls his head to the side, "you're not still going on about him are you? I doubt he'd be willing to help us-"

"We need to do **something**, it's probably a fools errand, but we should just try once more. Is there anything he said to you that might help us? Like why he doesn't want to fight with my army?" I prod.

Draener looks to the side for a moment, a slightly frustrated expression on his face. "No, there's nothing," I sigh and rub my temple, everything is so unclear now, what's right and wrong for Skyrim used to be so clear, but everything just gets more blurred by the day. "I'm sorry, Ulfric."

"If I may speak," a woman's voice chimes in from the doorway. I look up to see a lovely young woman standing in a grey fur coat which contrasts her bright red hair stunningly. Draener's face suddenly goes deathly pale, the only color coming from the black in his beard. "I know of one way to appeal to the Dragonborn," she says as she steps into the light of the rising sun coming in through the window.

Her eyes shimmer a beautiful gold in the sunlight as she speaks she smiles shyly as she comes into the room further, "you see, to the East of here, there is a small cottage…."

* * *

_**Author's Note: Okay, just saying, I reaaallllyyy love this cliffhanger ending, I'm just saying. So Mephala's big plan is gonna end up being super awesome I think and I can't wait to write it, though I think I went about her evil-ness a little too strong, so tell me what you think and I'll try to tone her down. **_

_**I had a lot of fun writing this chapter because of the variety of the emotions in it, I mean Lydia was having a good night, but Markus was just having a shitty time and the there's Mephala who's just bat shit crazy and evvviillll, and I decided to end it on a cliffhanger so I decided throwing Ulfric in couldn't hurt.**_

_**Thank you all sooo much for the reviews, seriously! :)))) They really do make my day and it means a lot to hear you guys are enjoying the story so far so I'll try not to mess it up for you! **_

_**Thanks again for the favs, follows reviews, etc. they make my day! **_

_**Ooohh... you haven't done any of the three above...? Well, why not start today!? Markus is waiting for youuuu ^_^**_

_**Anyways I'll see how the beginning of this quarter goes and try to keep writing, but until lacrosse season ends (and it's only just begun) I just don't see when I could squeeze in much time to write. **_

_**Happy Easter and have a nice day! :)**_


	20. Dark Visitors

_**Author's Note: Hey everybody! So before you get too excited, this chapter in my opinion is a boring one but it's mainly a set up for the next couple chapters so there's a good reason for it being put in as it is. It's also really short, sorry I just really wanted to stop at a certain point to leave a certain feeling at the end**_

_**That being said, please enjoy! :)**_

* * *

**Markus**

I jump up in the bed, my heart races uncontrollably and sweat lightly coats my chest. My eyes search the room for signs of the forest or the ashes that would be left of it, anyhow. I look for the forest or the fire or my mother or anything, really.

But there's nothing, just an empty room full of darkness. Outside the window there's also only darkness, so I lay back and stare at the ceiling, my arms folded behind my head to make up for the pillow's small size. I hadn't had these dreams in a good three years at least, but now it seems like they're back.

Flashes of that night cross my mind almost daily, but for the most part they'd made their way out of my dreams for a good while. In the daytime, I can brush them off, think of something else, do something else, do **anything,** really, just to keep my mind from straying back to that night. In the day, I can fight it.

But not at night, not in my dreams.

The very definition of sleeping means lowering ones defenses and letting go of the control one usually has over themselves. I might be able to shut it out during the daytime, but while dreaming I'm fair game.

But they've been happening too many times to be a coincidence recently. Something's causing it. And I can bet what that thing might be….

_Mephala._

She'd spoken to me last night, I couldn't see her, but it was her without a doubt. I know I'll have to deal with her again, it just depends on how soon. She says she wants the souls, but she won't tell me why she wants them or what she'll do with them.

_And that shit just ain't happening, how the hell was she planning on getting them out of me anyway? ….Never mind I don't wanna know. _

I take a deep breath to calm my nerves, the coolness of the air doubling with the sweat on my skin helping to cool me further from what feels like a small fever. I pay it no mind as I, with some effort, begin to clear my mind of thoughts of darkness and heat.

I close my eyes and try to think of something, anything, to occupy my mind. After a while I find myself thinking of Lydia. At first I think of the 'wall' Lydia, the one that stares blankly at me and says sentences that are all of two words long. Though that's more of an annoying thought than a calming one.

Then I think of the **real** Lyd, or at least, what I hope is the real Lyd; the one that smiles sweetly and mischievously, jokes around, and actually **laughs**…

I find a different kind of heat spreading through me now. I suffice to clearing my head once more, though this time I clear away pleasant images instead of morbid ones, a feeling I'm not used to. After a few minutes of laying there, I feel as if I'm on the edge of sleep, but for some reason just can't actually cross over it.

I roll over and close my eyes, which feel as if they're burning for need of sleep. Luckily after a few short minutes, sleep arrives.

* * *

**Lydia**

I strap on the final piece of my armor: my breastplate. I latch on the heavy, familiar steel, and instead of feeling worn and tired, find myself feeling oddly refreshed, considering I was almost murdered in a back alley last night, I feel strangely relaxed. I slide my sword into its sheathe and walk out the door into the hallway.

I walk to Markus's room just down the hall and knock lightly on the door. "My thane?" I say, my face pressed near the door in an effort to hear a response. But nothing comes, and after a moment I try again. "My thane?" I say, louder this time.

After another few moments of straining to hear a response, I reach out and turn the door handle, pushing a sense of urgency back as I swing the door open in a fluid motion.

The swiftness of the swing sends a small gust of air into the room along with a loud screech from a squeaky hinge. I take in the sight of the room in a mere moment before I see Markus in bed. At first I think I might've woken him from the harsh squeak of the door, but he doesn't stir.

I let out a breath of relief, even though I know there was nothing to really worry about to begin with. Markus is laying face down, both his arms tucked underneath the pillow, his head facing away from me. Light pours in from a single window, casting rays of gold onto him. I give a small smile at the sight of his black boots on the floor beside the bed.

I just stand there, staring at the line of his spine, the muscles on his outstretched arms, and the way the sun made his normally black hair take a deep red undertone.

"_He wasn't as tall as the other kids then, he was short, and stocky. Not at all like he is now. His ears weren't as pointy as theirs, either, and his jaw was more like a square. As he grew, so did the differences between him and the pure-blooded Bosmers."_

Terran's voice repeats in my head as I watch Markus's tan back rise with every steady breath. I'd never put much thought into men, they'd never truly intrigued me before, they mostly all the same in Whiterun. All pale, all stocky and thick, all with facial hair and long flowing locks to boot.

But Markus is none of those things, he doesn't swing a great sword madly in a circle until his opponents are hacked to pieces, he's smoother, more relaxed and tactical than I'd expected. Simply put, he's rather…enchanting, really.

**_You came in here for a reason, not to play peeping tom, remember?_**

I shake my head, and close the door most of the way before taking a step into the room and trying to wake him. "Thane," I say firmly, this time his head twitches slightly. "My thane," I say, his head turns to face me. His eyes are squinted, his lids are heavy with sleep and his hair is spiked in all different directions. He blinks a couple times before speaking.

"Hi," he says in a low, rough voice.

"Good morning, my thane." I say, a small smile pulling at the corners of my mouth as Markus yawns and then shoves his head back into the pillow.

"Already?" He asks, his voice muffled in the pillow's soft surface.

"Already," I repeat, and with that he breaths in deep before lifting himself from the bed into a sitting position off the side of the lumpy mattress. He's wearing only a pair of hide pants, and for a moment I think it's rather strange, but then again, I don't particularly care to sleep in these beds either, not knowing whose slept there before or whether the inn keeper ever washes the sheets.

He yawns again, stretches his arms and stands, "Well," he starts as he brushes by me, sending a wave of his scent through the air, "let's get going then." He says as he reaches the dresser and plucks his armor from the top of it.

He pulls the well made black armor over his head, a small feeling of sadness rises in me as I see armor pulled further down his torso until there's no tanned skin left for me to see. He peeks up over at me, his green eyes glistening with humor. "I'll be changing my pants next," he says, tucking his daggers into the holsters on his back, "you're welcome to stay and watch that too, if you want."

I feel a blush flood my face, not because of what he said, but because a part of me was contemplating that invitation. Suddenly I snap my eyes away from him as if he could sense the thoughts racing through my head at the moment, and the small inward struggle.

He begins to unfasten his pants and with that, I pace madly toward the door, "I'll be at the bar," I say quickly as I pull the door closed fast behind me. I hear his laugh ring out from the other side of the door and I can feel my cheeks turn crimson.

* * *

**Markus**

I slip the hide pants off quickly, a wide grin pulling at my lips. Lydia's face was priceless, it's possible I could've pissed her off, but it was definitely worth whatever icy glare she'll give me later. I snag the bottom part of my armor off of the dresser's top and pull them on. I fasten the small holster onto my right leg and slip my silver knife into it.

I turn and walk back to the bed to where my boots sit on the floor. I sit on the bed as I pull my boots on and tuck my pants into them. I hear a flapping noise at the head of the bed and look to see a nightingale staring back at me from it's new perch on one of the bed posts.

I look over to the window to find it open, though I'm certain I never opened it. Suddenly I hear the door to my room close, and stand reflexively from the bed. A woman stands by the door, a red robe with black feathers on its shoulders scarcely covers her soft pale skin. A hood covers the top of her head, making it impossible to see her full face.

A shadow seems to fall over the entire room, turning the sunlight dark and making it hard to see in the room. The darkest part of the shade clings to the woman's figure.

I look to the nightingale and then back to the woman, "Nocturnal," I say evenly, remembering the patron of the thieves guild's association with birds, specifically nightingales, and shadows.

I can see only her lips and the tip of her nose from under her hood, but nothing else. Unlike Mephala, no wicked smile ensues, no laugh, and no bitter comment. "You'll be leaving soon, is that right?" She asks flatly as she walks toward my dresser where my unstrung bow lies.

"That's right," I say, feeling a bit unsure of how I feel to have yet another daedric prince around. She reaches out to my bow, tracing the carvings lightly with her fingers.

"Good," she says, suddenly dropping her hand from the bow and turning back toward me, "set off to Riften then." She turns to the door and begins to walk away.

"Wait," I say, taking a small step forward, she turns and I stop dead in my tracks, "that's it?" I ask in confusion.

She offers no response, just stands there staring back at me, or I **assume** she's staring back since I can't see her eyes. Suddenly, a question pops into my head, "They say that if someone were to see your face," I pause for a second, rethinking how wise it would be to bring this up. After a moment of hesitation I decide it's too late to stop now, "that they'd go insane," I pause again, "is that true?"

"If I showed you, then you'd be even more defenseless than you are now." And with that she turns back to the closed door, with one sweep of her hand a portal appears where a door once stood, its dark purple mist ebbing around the blackness of it. She takes a few steps forward before turning her head to the side to look back at me. "You'd do well to listen to me, Dovah," she says ominously, "go to Riften, follow the nightingale, you'll find your way home." She pauses before adding, "Luck in the shadows, Dovahkiin."

And with that, she steps into the dark mist and the room slowly regains its lost light.

I stand there for a moment just staring at where the portal once was. The sound of flapping wings makes me turn to see the nightingale hover in the air for a moment before flying through the open window and into the outside sky, a loud song escaping its feathered form. "Riften…" I mumble to myself as I walk to the dresser and pick up my bow, holding it firmly in my hands as I look at the carvings.

_What did she mean, "you'll find your way home"? 'Home' is a long way away from here, and I don't think I'll ever get the chance to go back there again. _

Should I go then? To Riften? Why would she want me to go there…..?

I think it over a few more minutes in my head before deciding to ask Lydia about the place. I take one final look around the empty room before opening the door and walking out into the dining hall to find Lydia standing near the bar drinking a mead and eating a plate of food.

I walk to join her at the bar and she greets me cheerily, "Hello again, my thane." She says, a smile on her face. "Care to join me for breakfast?" I stare at the uninviting tray of food and find my stomach feeling ill just thinking of eating it.

"No, I'd much rather we be off soon, I wouldn't want to waste time." Lydia's eyes widen slightly at my words as she sips her mead.

"Oh, where are we off to now?" she asks with a small amount of excitement in her voice.

"Actually, I was hoping **you **knew," I pause at the sight of a red haired woman sitting in the corner of the room, but she turns her head and it's clearly not Mephala, or Rose, for that matter. "Do you know where Riften is?" I ask, suddenly remembering what I was doing.

Lydia looks a bit confused, "It's not a particularly nice town, but yes, I know it."

"So you know how to get there, then?" Lydia continues eating as I ask.

"Yes, I know how to get there, but what brought this on? Why would you want to go there?" I let out a small sigh.

"It's just something a little birdie told me to do." I say as Lydia finishes her breakfast. I lay some coins down on the bar and we leave the inn quickly.

The streets are once again crowded with people which makes walking through the streets rather dull with no real chance to have a conversation with Lydia with the chaos of people buzzing about. So we walk in silence and make our way to the city gate, though we don't make it out before I hear a familiar voice call out.

"Markus!" A man's voice booms. I turn from the gate to see Draener walking in the crowd. Only he's not walking **in** the crowd, he's walking through them. The people have cleared a pathway through the street and their faces speak of respect the way they look at him.

He walks in a long, stomping stride, causing the black cloak he's wearing to edge up and down in the breeze as he advances. I breathe out a frustrated sigh as he reaches us. "I thought you said we'd meet up again?"

"I did and we will, but for now I have to go." His eyes scan over me as they've done each time we've seen each other, and it's getting rather old.

"Come back to the palace, we still have much to discuss." He waves his hand toward himself in a friendly manner. When he sees my hesitation, he does it again, "Come along, Markus, we haven't finished talking about things."

"However amazing that sounds, I have to go, I **really **do. I'll be back soon, I **think**, and we can talk about whatever it is you want then." His eyes grow the tiniest bit wider.

"No, Markus," his voice sounds more panicked now than it did before, "you don't think this is important?" Draener's voice giving off a defensive tone. Markus's face turns suspicious toward his father's odd demeanor and a small feeling of caution rises within me.

* * *

**Markus**

Draener's voice sounds more frantic than I've ever heard it, though that isn't saying much since I've only known him for a few days. His eyes hold something behind them, something dark and secretive, something I'm not partial to.

I look to Lydia, whose icy blue eyes are looking over Draener with a wariness in them. I step toward Draener so only he can hear me. "Is there something wrong? Something you want to tell me?" I ask in a whisper.

Draener's face calms almost immediately. He looks to the side for a moment before looking back to me, his behavior is almost completely indifferent now. "You're my son, Markus." He says flatly. "I'd like to have at least a few conversations with you before you set off on your own way."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. It's not an unreasonable request, and I find myself considering staying just a bit longer. But a flutter of wings from above draws my attention to the sky. I look to see the nightingale hovering far over us, staring down as if it were reminding me of Nocturnal's words.

_"You'd do well to listen to me, Dovah, go to Riften, follow the nightingale, you'll find your way home." _

I look back to my father, and shake my head, "That'll have to wait," is all I say as I turn back to Lydia and the gate to Skyrim.

Somewhere far above us, the flutter of wings pushes on ahead.

**A short time later…. **

* * *

**Draener**

"It would be better if he was here when the news came," Ulfric says with an edge to his voice, "we don't want him to assume we had anything to do with it." Galmar steps forward toward Ulfric's stone throne.

"And why would he? As far as he's concerned, we're not aware of this-" Galmar's voice rumbles on, but I stand and excuse myself to my room. I have no interest in listening to more plans and schemes. I've listened to plans and schemes and war plans and tactics and methods all my life.

It's all growing old.

I find myself asking what I'm **not** willing to do, what I'm not willing to sacrifice for Skyrim. At this point, the list is dwindling. But only because it seems I've already given everything that really mattered. And now it seems I've moved to taking from my list to that of others. Now it seems I'm taking from those who have no business in this war.

Now it seems I'm taking from my own son.

Every moment this war drags on I sink lower and lower in my desperation for victory. Every moment my soul becomes more and more burdened with the guilt that comes from war.

I can only pray that Talos shall forgive me when my time is finally done.

* * *

_**Author's Note: What'd you think? Like I said, it was mainly a set up chapter, the good stuff is coming in really soon! In this chapter I used a quote from a book, "Luck in the shadows" (Nocturnal's line) is actually from the book **__**Luck in the Shadows**__** so I don't own that phrase or book or anything, I just thought it was a really cool saying I could include for the thieves. **_

_**Next chapter we'll go to Riften and a character that's very near and dear to my heart will make an appearance! XD **_

_**Either next chapter or the chapter after that all hell will break loose and major angst will come in! It's gonna be pretty epic! **_

_**We had a HUGE spike in favs and follows last chapter, I can only guess that was because of the "Markus is waiting for you" thing I put in haha. With all the new people reading the story I was hoping if you've recently followed or fav'd and you haven't reviewed yet you could take the time to leave one now! It doesn't have to be about this chapter since there really wasn't that much to talk about in it, but it could be on anything really. **_

_**Thank you all so much for all the favs, follows, and reviews! **_


	21. A Homecoming Of Sorts

_**Author's Note: Hey guys! So I always write while listening to music and there was this song I really wanted to use, it's "Paddy's Lamentation" by Nuala Kennedy. There's only one video on youtube of Nuala's version and the other version's aren't the same at all.**_

_**I'll post the song I used on to my page, I tried to find a lyric video but there was none so I had to settle with this awkward live one, the song in the vid is perfectly fine, it's just an awkward performance. I would really like it if you checked the song out though! I had to make some lyric changes to fit this fic, but I think it really ties in well with what I wanted to convey in this chapter. (I do not own the song or any of the lyrics)**_

_**This chapter doesn't have any major drama but in the next one all hell is gonna break loose so I hope everyone's ready for some angst/sadness. But I wanted to give them some happy times before that and so this chapter was born!**_

* * *

**Lydia **

We'd set out on our way hours ago for Riften, the sun had set a good while ago and the moon now hangs high above us. Not that we can see it, however, tree tops hide any trace of the night sky, making it so dark I can barely see where I'm steering my horse.

Luckily my horse needs no guidance as she continues on down the dirt road that carves through the thick forest. I look back to Markus who is leaning on his horse's neck, humming along to a tune in his head. His hood is pulled up over his face, leaving only his jaw and lips exposed.

His head lifts slightly as he notices me watching him, and a small smile crosses his face. "What's that tune from?" I ask, feeling slightly nervous from that mischievous smirk of his. His adam's apple bobs as he clears his throat to speak.

"Just an old song, 'Paddy's lamentation'," he says with amusement in his tone. He nudges his horse forward and comes to walk alongside me to my right.

"I've never heard that one," I say, turning back to the darkness ahead of us, "how does it go?" A quick chuckle escapes his mouth.

"I'm not sure you'd like it," my gaze flicks back to him as he gives his horse a pat on its thick, broad neck. I must have a determined look on my face because he just sighs, clears his throat again, and lays back on his horse, his head resting on one of his arms which is propped under him. He closes his eyes, his face looking up to the trees above us.

How he finds it comfortable to lay back in his saddle like that, I'll never know. He begins to hum the same verse as before,

_"Well it's by the hush, my boys, and that's to hold your noise, _

_come listen to poor Paddy's lamentation, _

_I was by hunger pressed, and by poverty distressed,_

_So I took a thought to leave the elven nation."_

His voice is clear an crisp, though the song is obviously meant to be sung with a much higher voice, he makes it sound just as well, maybe better.

_"Well I sold me horse and cow, my little pigs and sow, _

_And from this plot of land I soon departed, _

_And me sweetheart Dae Laree, well, I'm sure I'll never see, _

_For I left her there that morning broken hearted," _

I watch as his adam's apple rises and falls, keeping in pace with Markus's tune and song. Normally, I don't like making lots of noise in the open at night, but I enjoy listening to him sing, it calms me, though I can't really say why, it might be because it's just nice to see him being his cheery self, or maybe it's just nice to hear a song on the road.

_"So here's to you boys, now take my advice, _

_To Skyrim, I'll have you not be going, _

_There's nothing there but war and the murderin' armies' roar, _

_And I wish I was at home in dear old Daerlin."_

His clear voice stops singing, and his head turns to look at me, to gauge my reaction, maybe. His hood is pushed back, allowing me to see the glimmer in his eyes as they look back at me. I look away, anger rising slowly within me. "It was written by a wood elf who left Valenwood when the Thalmor began pushing into the Valen," he says with just a hint of irritation behind his voice.

When I don't say anything, he continues, "When he went to Skyrim it was right when the first rebellion against the empire broke out, that's what he's talking about." At first anger pours into me, but is quickly replaced with pure sadness.

"We haven't come very far since then, have we?"

_There's nothing there but war and the murderin' armies' roar_

Markus's voice echoes in my head, I turn my head when he doesn't say anything. I look to see him still laying back, but his face has a saddened look to it now. He quickly sits back up, keeping his emerald gaze on me. "I told you, you wouldn't like it." He says in a small voice.

"It's not whether I like it or not," I take a breath, "it is what it is." I look back to the gloomy road ahead, seeing what looks to be the end of the forest's line. The thought of Skyrim slowly being torn apart by itself kills me, and the more I think of it, the blurrier my vision becomes. I feel the sting of the tears in my eyes, but I make no move to wipe them away, hoping he won't see or that he'll ignore it.

"It doesn't have to be," he says, a childlike innocence in his voice. I feel a single tear run down my cheek, luckily it runs down the right side of my face, so he can't see.

A bitter huff escapes my lips and as I open my mouth to speak I taste a single salty tear, "It's how it's always been," I look over to see his jaw set, eyes staring intently back at me with his brows raised slightly; a look of pity. I look away once again, "and I'm not sure that'll ever change."

I see him turn his head back to the road ahead of us as he thinks on my words. When he says nothing, my mind screams at me to ask, "Is that really all you think there is here? War? Fighting?" I keep my head straight and listen closely as he takes a deep breath before answering.

"No," he says finally, in the corner of my eye I can see him staring at me with a soft expression, "let's see, there's horkers and there's trolls, and hag ravens, and…" his gaze shifts to the ground as he thinks, "there's frisky blacksmiths," I can't hold back a small laugh and I turn to see him leaning on his stallion's neck with his arms crossed, a small, charming smirk on his lips, "and then there's the dragons," his green eyes shine even in through the darkness, "but I think my favorite thing about Skyrim is it's beautiful housecarls."

My smile fades as my eyes grow wide, my heart beats faster under his emerald gaze. I open my mouth as if to speak but find no words. Luckily, we've reached the end of the forest, and emerge under the open Skyrim night sky. Markus's eyes shift from me toward the sky, his eyes growing wider as he sits straight up in his saddle. He mumbles something under his breath as he stares, but it sounds like nonsense to me.

I follow his gaze to the sky, finding nothing but the moon and the northern lights winding through the night, illuminating it with blues, purples, greens, and yellows. I look back in confusion to see Markus still staring in wonder. "Lyd, are you seeing this?" He asks in disbelief.

"What, the northern lights?" I ask, looking back quickly to make sure I'm not missing something, a dragon maybe? But there's nothing there that hasn't been there all my life, nothing out of place, and no dragons to take note of.

I look back to see Markus is gone, his horse standing with no rider. I turn my head wildly, trying to find where he might've gone. "My thane?" I say timidly. A branch near the tree line we'd just emerged from shakes high above me. I look to see Markus climbing impossibly quickly to the top of the tallest tree along the edge of the forest.

He reaches a thick, sturdy branch and walks out on it as far as he can before he squats low on the branch and looks back down to me, an excited smile on his face, the smile of an adventurous little boy. "This is amazing!" he calls, his voice ringing through the treetops. He looks back to the lights as he calls out again, "How often does this happen?"

"You mean you've never seen it before?" I call back to him. He looks down to me, his smile fading slightly as he shakes his head.

"No," he yells back, "never." He adds in a smaller voice. He just sits there for a few minutes, staring at the lights from his perch. I try to remember the last time I'd taken the time to watch the northern lights, but can't think of a single time. The thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

A few minutes later, Markus makes his way down quickly and easily, jumping and swinging from branch to branch as if he'd climbed that very tree hundreds of times. He mounts his horse, his eyes still focused on the aura above us as it shifts in waves of color through the sky. "Sorry," he breathes, only slightly out of breath, "I wanted to get a closer look."

I can't help but let out a laugh; he reminds me so much of a little boy, out on his first adventure.

* * *

**Markus **

Her laughter chimes in my head and I turn to see that captivating smile of hers. She's obviously laughing at me, and I'm sure that to her I look like a dumbfounded fool, staring at something she'd seen all through her life. I let out a small laugh and look down in embarrassment, realizing how much of an idiot I must look like.

After a moment or so of listening to her laugh, she breathes in and speaks, "So, my thane," she says in a soothingly sweet voice, "shall we set up camp for the night?" My back is stiff from riding so long and my abdomen aches from the constant motion, I think it over and open my mouth to answer when a noise breaks the night's silence.

A bird's song sounds from the trees behind us and I turn to see a nightingale looking down at us. "That's odd," Lydia says as she stares at the bird, "I've never seen a nightingale out at night, they're morning birds…" At that, the bird pushes itself from its perch and flies on ahead of us.

"Yeah," I say, still watching the bird as it puts a growing distance between us, "strange." I say in agreement. My mind races back to Nocturnal and her words at the inn, and I barely catch what Lydia's saying.

"So what do you say?"

"Huh?" I ask, my head snapping back to Lydia's questioning glance.

"Should we set camp for the night?" I sigh in disappointment, I really do wish we could just stop and rest, but as the nightingale pushes on, so must we.

"No, let's keep going for a while longer," I say with a heavy voice, "I want to reach Riften as soon as possible." She just nods in acknowledgement and before long, we're riding at a gallop on a dirt path that cuts through an open plain.

After a while, a question pops into my mind and I feel the need to ask, "Hey, Lyd?" she looks over, her blue eyes shining as always. "I was wondering, what do you think about the war? Skyrim's a stranger to me, I know only what I've seen, but you grew up here," her eyes dull at the mention of the war, it's clear this wouldn't be her topic of choice, "I just want to know your opinion."

"My opinion doesn't matter," she says as she looks over the empty plain that surrounds us, "I'll follow you against any enemy," she looks back to me, "whether that be the Stormcloaks, or the Empire."

"Yes but, what do **you** think?" She sighs deeply as she thinks of what to say.

"I'm a Nord, through and through. I worship Talos, and I hate how I must always hide my faith from sight or else be persecuted for it," she says with anger rising in her voice, she takes a breath before she begins again, this time speaking more evenly, "but I'm unsure about how I feel of Ulfric, he seems to love Skyrim just as much as I do, but his methods are….questionable."

I say nothing for a few moments, letting the idea sink in. "So if you were to choose between the Empire or the Stormcloaks….?" I end with an uncertain tone, I know what she'll say, but I just need the confirmation.

"As I said, I stand with you." She looks over to gauge my reaction. I must have an unpleased expression because she quickly sighs and adds, "But if it ever came to it," she says in a small voice, "I would side with the Stormcloaks."

I just give her a small nod and turn away to look over the fields of tall grass that sways in a cool breeze.

_Then let's just hope it never comes to it._

* * *

**Meanwhile in the Palace of Kings…**

The sound of heavy chinking of metal plates echoes through the stone hall, filling it with a dysfunctional tune. Ulfric, Draener, Galmar, along with other members of Ulfric's most trusted officials sit at the long wooden table that sits at the center of the hall. They all feast on horker meat, bread, grilled leeks, and sweet rolls as they carry on with discussions of the war, as they always do.

The source of the metal chinking, a simple soldier, rolls his eyes at the feasting horde of those who give people like him orders daily. He brushes that thought from his head as he approaches the head of the table where Ulfric sits, chewing on a hunk of meat, with his seemingly ever-present two; Draener and Galmar. "My lord," the soldier says as he bows, Ulfric turns from his meal, though he continues chewing the meat, "the soldiers are ready, we are awaiting your order."

Ulfric gives a satisfied look but before he can speak, Draener begins, "Are you certain this is necessary?" He asks to Ulfric in an uncertain tone. Ulfric gives Draener a stern look.

"He remains indifferent to the war, he's seen how it's ravaged Skyrim, how it continues on with no end in sight, there is no more time for waiting." Draener sighs and sets his jaw, looking down to the table with a reluctant expression. "This must be done." Ulfric says with a decisive voice, though behind it is the same hesitation Draener feels.

Ulfric turns back to the soldier, "Tell them to set out immediately, I want this done quickly," the soldier nods and almost turns away, "and as soon as it's over tell them to haul their asses back here, we can't have the Dragonborn having any suspicions."

The soldier nods, "Of course, my lord." Is all that he says as he turns away from the table and begins to make his way to the barracks, and to the small battalion of soldiers awaiting word from the Jarl of Windhelm.

As the soldier's armor once again begins its unharmonious clanking, Draener's appetite seems to fade away as quickly as his hope for redemption.

Ulfric sits back in his chair, certainty written on his face. He'd given the order, the Dagonborn couldn't ignore the war now. He'd done what was best for Skyrim, what needed to be done…right?

* * *

**Lydia **

"My thane," I say loudly as I look back to fins Markus laying back once again in the saddle, asleep. "My thane," I say louder, this time he stirs, sitting up with a big yawn. "We're here." I announce as our horses trot slowly toward the gates of Riften.

He stretches his arms as he speaks, "Finally," his voice is rough from sleep, making his words sound more like a rumble than an actual word.

The journey here had been surprisingly enemy-free, as if Talos himself was watching over us. As we approach the gate, a bird calls from atop the great stone wall. I look to see yet another nightingale looking down at us. The sun had just begun to rise, illuminating the gate and stables in a warm, inviting light.

We dismount and set our horses up at the stables before turning to the guards at the gate. "Halt there," one of the guards says as he holds up a steel plated hand, "if you want to go in, you'll have to first pay the visitor's tax."

"Visitor's tax?" Markus echoes, his face twisted in confusion.

"You're obviously not from here, and we can't just let everyone into Riften, so visitors have to pay the tax." Markus shakes his head and lets out a huff of frustration.

"This is obviously a shakedown," Markus says as he begins walking toward the gate.

"Wait," the guard steps in front of Markus, "fine, you can go on in, just keep quiet." Markus just rolls his eyes and pushes to guard to the side. I follow him quickly in through the gate and into Riften.

We walk into the streets, which hold only a few wandering townspeople, and I find whatever inviting feeling I had is now gone as I look to see a man leaning up against a wooden post, glaring at us as we enter.

Markus takes no note of the man and begins twisting his shoulders left and right in an attempt to stretch them properly. "What do ya' say we just grab some food and then sleep for a few hours?" I nod and he begins talking again with excitement in his voice, "I have the biggest craving for an apple right now that I just can't explain…"

"They might have some for sale in the marketplace." I offer, he nods and within a few minutes of wandering around the streets we come to a wide open circle of stalls. Much to Markus's happiness, one of the stalls is a fruit stand. I stand to the side of the stand as Markus buys his apple, he asks me if I want one, but right now I'm more tired than I am hungry.

As soon as Markus turns away with his apple, a cry erupts from one of the stalls. "THIEF!" Markus goes into a panic. He grabs my hand and before I know it, I'm running alongside him through back into the streets. He turns us into an alley and peeks around the corner.

"What'd you do that for?!" I ask loudly between puffs of breath. He doesn't answer me, he just keeps peeking around the corner. "What? What is it?" I whisper, I come to peek around the corner behind him. A shape runs from the marketplace, trying desperately to leap over the stone wall that encircles the circle of stalls.

"STOP! THIEF!" Another voice screams. But before the thief can make it over the wall, an arrow shoots forward and sticks him in the back, causing him to fall to the ground, leaving him unmoving on the cobblestones below.

Markus doesn't move, just keeps staring at the dead thief lying on the ground. "You're not as smooth as you used to be now are ya', lad?" My head snaps up to the rooftop across from us to see a man in dark armor sitting with one leg dangling off the roof, one arm resting on the other leg's knee, a hood is pulled over his face, concealing his face. "Or perhaps I'm wrong and you've stolen the **true** treasure of the day." The man nods his head towards me.

I turn to see Markus with a huge smile on his face, "Bryn!?" He says loudly. The man just gives a smirk in response. "Bryn, get your ass down here!" Markus calls loudly as he runs over to the building's wall and climbs it in a blink of an eye.

"Markus, no-" the man protests, but it's too late, Markus reaches up and grabs the man's leg, yanking him down into the alley below and then letting go and falling back down himself. Markus lands on his feet with ease, while the other man lands in a heap on the ground. Markus holds out his hand to 'Bryn' and the man takes it with a chuckle.

Instead of just pulling him up, Markus pulls the man into a quick hug. "I'd heard word from our sister guild in Cyrodiil that you'd gone missing, but I just assumed you'd given up on life and locked yourself in a brothel somewhere," the man says after Markus released him from the hug, the man pushes his hood back, revealing long reddish-brown hair and a short beard, "how in oblivion did you end up here?"

Markus just sighs deeply and laughs, "It's a long story," is all he offers in response.

"Well," the man sighs after he looks back to the marketplace, where guards are now hauling the thief's body from the ground and into a cart, "I've no other engagements currently…." Markus follows Bryn's gaze and his smile fades slowly.

"What was that about anyway?" he asks, nodding toward the scene of the crime.

The man gives a small smile, "Another long story," Markus matches the smile on his own lips and shrugs.

"Well, we just got in from the road, and we were trying to find somewhere to rest." Markus says with a disappointed tone.

"Well, I might have a place for you to stay, though I don't think we have enough beds for **both** of you…." Markus's face lights up a little bit. No doubt he's excited for an excuse not to go to sleep.

"That's fine, I expect you and I will be busy telling our stories for some time, am I right?" He says with a laugh.

"Aye, lad, I suppose we will." At that, Bryn finally turns and takes note of me, prompting Markus to speak.

"Oh, uh, Brynjolf, this is my housecarl, Lydia, Lydia this is my friend Brynjolf." Brynjolf's eyes go wide as he looks at Markus.

"**Housecarl**?" Brynjolf echoes, Markus simply nods, "Well, this makes me want to hear your story all the more." He turns back to me, "Nice to meet you, lass, and let me offer my condolences." Brynjolf gives a subtle nod in Markus's direction, prompting Markus to give him a slap on the back of his head. "Ow," Brynjolf breathes, "anyway, follow me."

Brynjolf walks ahead of us, allowing me to whisper to Markus, "How do you know him? You've never been to Skyrim."

"He's the one who recruited me into the guild, he came to Cyrodiil one day to check up on the guild there and saw me steal a necklace or something from some merchant, I made a clean getaway and Bryn asked me if I wanted in," Markus shrugs, "so I said 'sure'."

We follow Brynjolf off of the streets and into a graveyard, Markus looks at the gravestones and says, "Not the kind of sleep we were hoping for, Bryn." Brynjolf just lets out a quiet chuckle as he walks to a small shack-like structure.

* * *

**Markus **

Brynjolf steps inside and I let Lydia go ahead of me, I hear the shifting of stone and almost go in, but a fluttering noise above me catches my attention. I look to see the nightingale.

I shake my head, hoping that whatever reason Nocturnal wanted me here would pass soon enough. We end up weaving our ways through dark tunnels for a few minutes before arriving in a huge, wide open room with what appears like a little lake in the middle of it.

Brynjolf turns and walks backwards for a few steps, his arms open wide, and with a large grin he says, "Welcome home, Markus."

* * *

_**Author's Note: Soooo? What did you think? This is a really slow-going romance mostly because I don't think Markus realizes how much having Lyd around means to him yet. But don't worry...that's gonna change reeeaaaaallll soon. I might just make the next chapter a really long one so I don't have to break it up into two, but who knows? There's just so much I have as far as plot is that I might need to break it up. **_

_**I uploaded this right after I finished it so I hope there's no outstanding errors... -_- I'm sorry if there are... **_

_**At any rate, I'd just like to say a big THANK YOU! At this point there are 74 follows on the story and I never thought I'd get even a fraction of that...Your support is much appreciated and I hope everyone is enjoying Markus and Lydia's slow-going love story, I promise I'll give you guys something good between them soon for all your support ;) **_

_**Make sure to fav, follow, review yadda yadda yadda... :) Have a good day everyone! **_


	22. Broken Promises Leave Deep Wounds

_**Author's Note: Okay so before you start reading this you should know that I lied, next chapter is when everything will get seriously intense, but for now it's just more background. Next chapter should be up realllyyy soon, as in one to three days after this one so don't worry, you'll all see what happens next soon enough :) **_

_**I tried to get a good, solid backstory in here, but it might be a little weird and confusing so sorry if it is! **_

* * *

**Markus **

"Welcome home, Markus." Brynjolf says with just a hint of pride as he walks across the bridge that leads across the pool of water. A man stands in the middle of the bridge, staring as we draw closer.

A statue of Nocturnal stands in the pool of water facing towards the bridge. Her arms are outstretched toward us, and a stone raven sits on her shoulder. She wears the same robe that had scarcely covered her when she had shown herself to me. The air around the stone figure seems unnaturally darker than it should be. The nightingale that led us here flies above her for a moment before perching on her empty shoulder.

My eyes roam all over; overall it's a nice place, yet the shelves meant to hold trophies and loot from heists and jobs are nearly empty, holding only dust and a few gold septims. Lydia follows Brynjolf closely but I lag behind, still taking in the famed Thieves Guild headquarters here in Skyrim. Sure, it's decent, but no nicer than the one that was in Cyrodiil, larger maybe, but nothing like how Brynjolf had described when he recruited me into the guild.

The Nord on the bridge steps back when he sees Brynjolf, "Dirge," Brynjolf says, the man gives a small grunt in response. We pass him with little more than a stern look. As we near the other side, what looks to be a tavern comes into view. A bar stands against a stone wall, with tables and chairs scattered around in front of it.

A small group occupies a table, all talking with quiet voices. A woman sits with her back to us, twirling a strand of her blonde hair around her finger, her chair is tipped back on two legs with her own legs being propped up on the table, one boot folded over the other.

A bald Nord sits across from her, drinking from a heavy mug and looking out over the water. The other man sits to his right, wearing the full thieves guild armor set. His left hand is laid flat on the table, fingers spread apart, and with his right hand he deftly stabs the spaces in between each finger, puncturing the wood beneath in intricate rhythms and patterns.

The big burly Nord catches our approach in his peripheral vision and turns his head to us, "Brynjolf," he says as he draws his mug from his mouth and hastily wipes his beard with his arm, "glad to see you've returned," his eyes glance over us before settling back to Brynjolf with a defeated gaze, "but where is our new recruit?" the man sighs.

"I'm afraid he wasn't able to make his escape." Is all Brynjolf says.

"And who are these two? Don't tell me you've brought fresh blood so soon after our…loss." The other man says as he continues to stab the table in a rhythm. The burly Nord snorts at the remark as if to say it really wasn't a loss at all they'd experienced through the recruit's death.

The man plants the knife into the table in a final stab and the woman finally bothers to turn around. They both look over to us at the same moment.

The man is a stranger to me.

The woman isn't.

* * *

**Lydia **

The other two at the table turn to us, from what I can see under the hood, the man is a thin elf, a high elf, I think. The woman is an imperial, judging by how much shorter she is than the men, even when sitting down.

The woman's expression is plain at first, her legs are still propped up against the table's edge and a piece of bright hair is still tightly held between her fingers, but as her eyes go from me to Markus, her eyes bulge, her mouth gaps, and she nearly falls back in her seat.

The woman quickly pushes herself forward to avoid falling backward onto the floor. She leans on the table and stares at the punctured surface, the two men stare at her with confused looks.

I look to see Markus looking up at the dull ceiling with his jaw set, brow straight, and lips in an unreadable line.

They know each other, that much is obvious.

"No," Brynjolf finally says, his eyes look at Markus for a moment before his gloved hand comes up to rub his forehead, "I'm sure you all would remember his name rather than his face; this is Markus Derrain, from our Cyrodiil guild."

The bald man and elf share a quick look of disbelief at each other before the Nord breaks out laughing, "You mean the fuckin' _Sweet Thief_!?" The burly man says as he stands and half stumbles over to Markus, who is laughing lightly at the mention of his nickname.

The man grabs Markus's hand and shakes it excessively, sending Markus's arm in a sort of wave. "The name's Vekel, and this is my tavern," he says as he lets go of Markus's hand motions toward the bunch of tables clustered together along with a bar against the wall. "Tell me," Vekel says as a laugh comes back into his voice, "why sweet rolls?"

Markus shrugs and opens his mouth to answer but Brynjolf cuts in, "Later, Vekel," the Nord nods and walks to take his place behind the bar, he leans on the wooden surface, a smile still on his face.

The elf lets out a huff as he stands from his seat, revealing himself to be as tall as Markus, yet several pounds thinner in comparison. He walks over to us quickly, his footsteps completely silent as he advances. He pauses for a moment to look us over, an angry expression covers his gaunt face. The elf turns toward a doorway to our right, as he walks away he mumbles something under his breath, though it sounds foreign to me.

Markus's entire body tenses as he takes a step toward the exiting elf and shouts something back, though again, I can't understand what's being said. Brynjolf steps in front of Markus and places a hand on his shoulder, "That's Dyerean," Brynjolf says quietly, "he's a complete dick but he's good at what he does so we keep him around."

Markus's breathing is rough and his shoulders are tensed as the elf steps through the doorway and out of sight.

_He's pissed, I wonder what Dyerean said to him angry so fast….._

"And then Markus, I'm sure you remember Vex…" Brynjolf says quickly, trying to draw Markus's attention away from Dyerean.

Markus's head grudgingly turns from the door to the woman as she slowly stands and turns to face us. A simple smile pulls at her lips, more like a smirk actually, yet something in her eyes is dark, hidden, her neck seems strained with effort to keep the smile. She stares directly at Markus, I look to see him staring back at her, his face is slightly pained, as if seeing her brought a bad memory to mind.

"Markus," the woman says in a sultry voice that drips with a familiarity that reminds me of a woman welcoming her husband home after a long separation, "nice to see you're still alive," Vex quickly winds her way through the empty tables and chairs and heads for the door the elf had gone through, "if you need me Brynjolf I'll be in my room." With a quick wave over her shoulder, Vex is gone.

Brynjolf sighs heavily and walks to the bar where Vekel has a mug of mead ready for him, a few moments pass before Markus snaps out of his trance and speaks, "A head's up would've been appreciated." His voice is thick, he clears his throat as he walks to join Brynjolf at the bar.

Brynjolf takes a swig of mead and lets out a long breath, the kind that comes from deep in the chest, the kind that says, 'here we go.'

"She's been here with us for years, Markus," Vekel hands Markus a mug of mead, though Markus just sets it down and stares at it as Brynjolf continues, "you knew that." Vekel holds up an empty mug to me as if to ask if I want one, I nod my head and he begins pouring another mead, I walk to the bar and stand beside Markus.

"We were fine in Cyrodiil," Markus mumbles as he lifts the mug of amber liquid and takes a large gulp.

"It was her choice, lad, we've been through this." Markus's jaw tightens for a moment. "Now tell me, what are you doing here? You said you never wanted to come to Skyrim, why the change of heart?" Brynjolf pauses before adding in a hushed tone, "You didn't come back for her did you?"

Markus shakes his head, "No, nothing like that."

* * *

**Vex**

Thick, dusty air fills my lungs as I look down through the narrow gap in between the stones. Markus, Brynjolf, that woman they showed up with, and Vekel all stand below around the bar. I shift my weight from one knee to the other, the cramped space making every position awkward.

I'd found this hidey hole when I'd first arrived here a few years ago with Brynjolf after he'd brought me from Cyrodiil to Skyrim to join the guild here.

He brought me here to train me, make me a master at thievery, to mold me into a swift shadow, one whose quickness and swift movements have made me one of the best thieves he's ever seen. At least that's what he's always told me.

I owe everything to Brynjolf.

I look down at the group as Brynjolf speaks, "She's been with us for years, Markus, you knew that." Markus's face just stares down at the bar. I squeeze my eyes closed for a moment, they're talking about me, that much is obvious.

"We were fine in Cyrodiil," I can barely make out his words, the faintness of his voice is unusual of the Markus I remember.

Shit, I even knew him before he was 'Markus', I knew him by Varius, in a simple, happier time. We were no more than fifteen when I first saw him in the market of my hometown. I remember seeing him for the first time, sitting up on a merchant's stall, just watching everyone below him pass by.

My hometown was a surprisingly diverse place; there were elves of every kind, argonians, a large group of Nords, and of course the native imperials like me.

Yet Markus was never playing hide and seek with the other elven children, they hated him. He later told me that they shunned him because of his ears; he only had one pointy ear, the other tip was cut off, though he never told me how it happened.

He found no refuge among the Nordic children, either, they shunned him as well, for the very same reason. He was different than them, and yet at the same time he was similar to both. I used to get headaches wondering why they all resented him so.

He was different, that was true, and I think that's why I was drawn to him.

* * *

_An arrow whistles by my head, striking a wine barrel set up against a merchant's stall, wine pours from the punctured wood. I whip my head around to see the same boy from the market clutching a large bow in his hand, a plain look on his face. "Hey!" I shout. I hear the merchant begin screaming behind me. _

_ "Filthy half-ling! I'll have your head!" The boy's green eyes go wide and he turns and begins to sprint through the market, placing the bow on his back. _

_ "Wait!" I call to him. He doesn't look back so I begin chasing him through the crowded streets. _

_ He swiftly dodges people, runs to a stall and quickly climbs it before a guard can grab him, he pulls himself onto a rooftop above the market. I mimic his actions on a different stall, and end up on the rooftop next to him. _

_ He takes a quick look down at the streets below, which are now flooding with guards who are climbing to the roof. _

_ He sees this, and begins sprinting to the edge of the roof, "Wait!" I call to him, but he leaps off and rolls onto the next roof. I once again mimic him and land just as swiftly. _

_ Though as I stand up from the crouch I landed in, a hand grabs my tunic and hauls me forward. "Hey!" I say without thought. The boy keeps his hold on my tunic as he pulls me along with him into a full sprint. _

_ I follow without resistance, so he releases his hold. We come to a stop at the edge of the rooftop, I look back to see the guards a good ways off, but coming fast. _

_ I turn back to the boy to see him no longer at my side. I look at the streets below in panic, hoping he didn't fall. Instead I find him clinging with both his arms and legs onto a long, thick rope that is hung between the roof of this building and the one across the street from it, a large, heavy rug draped over the rope. _

_ The rug must've been hung out to dry or something, though that isn't important now, the boy brings one tanned hand off of the rope and motions for me to follow him. I shake my head as I look to see how far up we are. _

_ The boy only waves me to follow again, I shudder and slowly lower myself onto the rope. I grab the thick, rough material and hold on for dear life, I again mimic his actions and wrap my legs around the rope just as he does, and follow him as he crawls further out onto the rope. _

_ He disappears under the heavy rug in the middle, and I follow him under the dark fabric. Somehow he manages to turn himself around and we look at each other face to face upside down under the rug. "What did you do that for?" I ask hastily. _

_ The boy just stares back at me, with no sign of answering me. "You could've killed me!" I shout. Suddenly I wonder what the people below must think of a talking lumpy rug. _

_ The boy brings a finger to his lips to tell me to be quiet, I open my mouth to protest but the sound of shouting catches my attention, "Little fucker," one of the guards spits, "next time I see him, I'll gut him like a pig." The sound of metal plates brushing over one another signals that the guards that were chasing are leaving, I take a deep breath. _

_ A minute later, the boy releases his legs from around the rope and begins to make his way across the rope, one hand at a time, "Hold on!" I say in a harsh whisper, "Shouldn't we wait here in case they come back?" The boy disappears from under the rope and I once again begin following him. _

_ Although this time, I don't mimic him, I hold tight to the rope and go slowly across. I watch as the boy reaches the end of the rope and looks up at the ledge of the roof. _

_ The ledge must be a foot up the wall from where the rope is tied; it's too high to get up or reach. "We could go back! It's too high to reach!" As I say this, the boy looks to his left and launches himself from the rope towards a single peg sticking out from an old rope hook. _

_ Everything seems to slow, there's no way he'll make it, and even if he makes it to the peg, there's no way he'll be able to grab it. _

_ I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for the sound of the boy hitting the ground or a scream, but when neither fill my ears, I open my eyes to find the boy pulling himself unto the peg and then jumping up and grabbing the ledge. He pulls himself up easily and disappears from view. "Wait for me!" I call to him as I begin dragging along the rope again. _

_ I get closer to the ledge, but then the rope suddenly dips down, I look up to see the metal loop that is wedged into the wall that the rope is tied around is loosening, the stone around the hook is cracking and weak, a piece of the wall crumbles as the rope slips a bit more. _

_ I panic and begin climbing frantically, yet the closer I get to the ledge, the more strain the hook is put under, and the weaker it becomes. Suddenly, the hook slips out of the wall, and the rope goes limp in my grasp. _

* * *

"It was her choice, lad, we've been through this." Markus's face is straight, though his jaw is clenched. "Now tell me, what are you doing here? You said you never wanted to come to Skyrim, why the change of heart?" Brynjolf says, his heavy accent seeping into his words. "You didn't come back for her did you?" I squeeze my eyes shut.

My mind races back to when Brynjolf came to Cyrodiil, back into my memories, to a much more recent one.

* * *

_The moon illuminates the familiar back alleys of my hometown, casting down bright harsh light on the bearded Nord's handsome face, his reddish brown hair stands out against his pale skin. The man, Brynjolf, is maybe in his late twenties, his eyes sparkle with hope for the both of us, both me and Markus. _

_ Markus stands behind me, his arms crossed over his chest, his breathing slow and even. Over the years he's grown tall and strong, every day he becomes more a man than he was the day before, confidence practically drips from his nineteen-year-old frame, a man's confidence, a man's arrogance. _

_My eyes grow wide as a large smile spreads across my face; this was it, this was my chance to get out of this town, to start fresh, to see the world, I almost accept Brynjolf's offer, but Markus's voice cuts me off. "No, thank you for the offer, but we're fine here." He says from behind me. _

_ The red-haired Nord in front of me looks to Markus before settling his gaze back to me. Markus's hand wraps around my arm and begins to pull me away, "Whatever you can teach us, I'm sure the guild master here can teach us just as well." _

_ I yank my arm from Markus's grip and spin to look at him, "What are you talking about?" I whisper harshly. Markus leans down to my cheek, his lips brush my ear as he speaks. _

_ "Come on, don't make a scene," his hand wraps around my arm again, and I push him back. He takes a single step back to balance himself, an angry look now in his green eyes. _

_ I stare back at him with a mirrored expression of that anger, "I can teach you far more than he can," Brynjolf says in a calming voice, his accent is odd, foreign, exciting; it speaks of far off places, adventures, danger, newness, everything I've been craving, "my offer stands, you both show considerable natural talent, we could use you in Skyrim."_

_ Markus's glare turns to Brynjolf, "Stop." Is all he says. Just a few hours ago the two men had been joking, laughing, sharing stories, and drinking together, but now a dark glint shines in Markus's eyes, something I've never seen in them; absolute fury. _

_ "Varius-" His angry gaze snaps back to me at my slip up. Ever since we'd joined the guild a few months ago he'd insisted on being called Markus, and as I always do, I mimicked him and took a new name as well, a 'thief name' we'd joked. And so he is Markus, and naturally, I am Vex. _

_ I look down and clear my throat, hoping his gaze will soften, "Markus," I correct myself, "this is our chance," I look up to see not anger, but fear, concern, worry, also things I've never seen from him, "we can have everything we've ever wanted! Come with me, come to Skyrim, can you imagine it!?" I say in an excited whisper, "Come with me," I reach up and place my hands on either side of his face and stretch up to him. _

_ His eyes just watch me as I strain up to reach his lips, "come with me," I say against his lips as I look deep into those deep green eyes of his, I see only conflict in them. I close my eyes and push my lips against his as I've done a thousand times before, and try to kiss away the fear. _

_ He doesn't respond at first, his lips stay rigid and stiff, but after a moment he pushes back against my lips and one arm encircles my waist and pulls me against him as the other reaches across my back. His mouth dominates mine and I let him have his way, he'll come with me, he'll come to Skyrim, he'll come. _

_ After a few more moments, he pulls me back, I look up to him but his eyes are closed tight, "Go." His voice is rough and thick, his warm arms loosen and fall from my body and Markus takes a few steps back before opening his eyes and looking at me. _

_ He's not coming. _

_ My vision begins to blur, he's not coming, he won't come, why won't he come? _

_ Markus's eyes shift to Brynjolf and his gaze becomes somewhat cold, "I'll write to ya', lad, you're welcome in Skyrim if ya' ever change yer mind." Brynjolf says as Markus turns his back on the two of us, as he turns his back on me, us, Skyrim. As he turns his back on everything that could have been._

* * *

I shake my head, forcing the tears away.

_This is pathetic, I'm pathetic, it was years ago. _

And yet, my hopes soar in anticipation for the answer to Brynjolf's question, "You didn't come back for her did you?"

I look to Markus, who shakes his head, "No, nothing like that." My spirit crashes down, just as it did the day we left for Skyrim.

"So why **are** you here?" Markus lets out a sigh.

"Well, let's start from the beginning then, do you remember that necklace you wanted me to steal for some noble here?" Brynjolf nods.

"The amulet Madam Leerian requested to be taken back from her ex-lover," Brynjolf's voice holds humor in it, "the guild master wrote back and told me you never returned with it and that you'd gone missing."

"Yes, yes, well the thing is I was bit drunk when I took the damn thing and the guards chased me all the way across the border…" I shift my weight and decide it's just best to sit on the floor, because this is a story I have to hear.

**A while later….**

My mouth falls open, "DRAGONBORN!?" Brynjolf's voice booms with laughter, "You're telling me that you, you are the-the-the" Brynjolf's laugh echoes through the walls, "the Dragonborn?" Brynjolf takes a few sharp breaths and turns to the woman, who Markus called Lydia, "and you're his housecarl?"

Lydia nods, Markus's face is lit with his bright smile, "Hard to believe, I know." My eyes are wide, and my head feels too heavy to hear any more. I squeeze my way out of my spying nook and find my way back into the ratway.

_Markus!? The Dragonborn!? Is this some kind of sick joke? _

I rub my temple as I walk the familiar passages back to my room.

_How could he ever be the Dragonborn? _

Sure, he's grown into a man, all the baby fat from his face his gone, and his voice is deeper than I remember, and he looks so much more…oh, I don't know….experienced? But I can't get the picture of the old Markus- Varius- out of my mind, the boy I used to chase around the streets, the one who always brightened my mood and lift my spirits with the clumsy things he'd do…..It's difficult to picture my…my…my childhood friend as a hero from legends.

I turn to the corridor where a single wooden door stands, I pull it open with ease and slip into my room. A small chandelier hangs above the center of the space, casting warm light throughout the large room. I walk to my dresser and snatch a wine bottle from it, I make my way to my large bed and sit at the foot of it.

I pull the cork from the top and press the bottle to my lips as my mind races back once more to the day I'd first met the man I thought I'd spend the rest of my days with…..

* * *

_The hook begins sliding out of the wall and my body freezes in terror, "Don't leave me!" I scream as the rope goes limp and I begin falling to the ground. Time seems to slow once more, and I look down to see people staring in shock and horror as the rope drops. _

_ I watch as the hook slips from the wall. _

_ Suddenly a gleaming silver knife is speared through the hook and driven into the wall, holding the rope securely up high. A tanned hand holds the knife in place and I look up to see the boy's young, calm face. His green eyes look at me strangely as he speaks, "I won't." _

_ His voice is quiet, uneven, rough. As if he hadn't spoken in a long time, I've never seen him speak to anyone in this town, I wasn't sure he __**could**__ talk. "I won't." he repeats, more clearly this time. I scramble to get off the rope and he pulls me up the wall. _

_ He helps me to my feet but then he turns and plucks his knife from the hook, letting the rope and rug fall to the street below. He walks across the roof and motions for me to follow to the next rooftop. I follow him unto the roof and then he looks over the ledge to the street below. _

_ Merchants line the street and people stream by, paying no mind to the rooftops above them. I look at the boy and notice one ear is round and the other is pointy, he notices my stare and brings his hand to cover his pointed ear. _

_ I look away and remember why I followed him all this way, "Why did you shoot that arrow at me?" I ask, the boy just gives me a confused look. "You shot that arrow at me!" His brow wrinkles and he shakes his head. _

_ He points over to another street and I recognize it as the street where he'd shot the arrow into the wine barrel. Guards wander up and down the street in search of him as the merchant screams and yells at the guard captain. "What?" I ask, still confused. "Why does that matter?" _

_ I turn to see he's gone, I look down at the street below and find him near an apple stall, and I watch as he plucks two apples from the bunch and runs back to the wall of the building. He bites down on one apple and holds the other in his hand as he climbs. _

_ He uses the window ledges and loose stones to climb, but then he reaches a point where he needs both hands. He throws the apple up to me and I catch it. He makes his way up and sits beside me. My eyes scan the streets for any signs of guards who noticed his theft. _

_ But there's not one guard to be seen. "I get it," I say in excitement, "you lure the guards over there, and then you don't have to worry about them!" I look to see him looking out over the city, leaning back on his arm as he takes another bite of his apple. His bow sits awkwardly on his back, it looks too big for him, but he hit his target perfectly with it. _

_ I look to the apple clutched in my hands and take a bite, "I'm Varius," he says as he looks back to me, "who're you?" I swallow the chunk of apple and open my mouth to answer, when a man from below begins to scream. _

_ "VARIUS!" we both peek over the edge to see an elven man storming through the streets, a furious expression on his face. But unlike all the other people, the elf looks up to the rooftops, and his eyes lock on us. "GET DOWN HERE NOW!" _

_ Varius jumps up and makes his way back down the wall where the elf waits. I watch as the elf grabs Varius's arm and practically drags him through the street. He looks back up to me and gives a small wave. I wave back and watch as they disappear into the crowd. _

* * *

I drop the empty bottle of wine on the floor, hearing it smash as it breaks against the stone. I flop back on the mass of sheets and blankets as voices flood my mind.

_"Don't leave me!" _

_ "I won't." _

_ "_Liar." I whisper to myself.

_"I won't. " _

_ "_Liar."

* * *

_**Author's Note: SOOO...what did you guys think?! Let me know if you liked this chapter or whether it was confusing or not, I tried to get some cool flashback-type thing going to show some solid history between Vex and Markus, but it might've seemed a little too scattered :/ **_

_**As I'm sure you've all noticed, I'm a huge fan of background! I love it when characters can interact and they've got some history behind them, the background from this chapter will come back up maybe within maybe the next two or three chapters...? I kind of write this stuff as I go haha **_

_**I never mentioned Vex's real name before she started going by Vex cause I couldn't think of a good one that would fit her, so I just wrote around that little detail! **_

_**The details in here may seem scattered for now, but don't worry, everything will make sense in time, I promise! :)**_

_**And as always thank you all for the reviews, favs, and follows! It's a great feeling to know you all are enjoying it so far!**_


	23. With Wounds We Just Can't Heal

_**Author's Note: Okay, so first off I'm sorry for the drought of updates recently, I had AP exams and a bunch of other stuff I won't bore you all with, this is my last update for a little while, I have to start studying for my other exams now -_- I'd much rather just write but unfortunately I can't. **_

_**However only two more weeks of school and then it's summer! I'll get back to my weekly updates in summer since I'll always have the time to write! :D **_

_**Anyways, enjoy this chapter because I think it's my favorite so far ^_^ **_

_**Also, be ready for a surprise at the end! **_

* * *

**Terran **

The fire cracks and hums as its flames curl around the pot of rabbit stew that hangs above it. I stir the pot absentmindedly as I think of my next move.

With Markus off, I've no reason to stay here in Skyrim, and all these dragons and then the war….it hardly seems like a wise place to stay. Cyrodiil is a far safer place for an old adventurer to live, not much excitement there, just quiet markets and the smell of the sea at the pier.

_Then again, if Markus were to need my help- then again he'd never ask for it….But that never stopped me from saving his ass a hundred times before. _

I sigh and set the stirring spoon on the edge of the pot and take a seat in the old wooden chair by the fire.

**_He's no longer a boy; he must learn to save himself. _**

Nurali always used to coddle Markus, never let him fail, never let him learn from his mistakes. I always told her failure teaches the best lessons; yet the moment her ashes were settled I became the same safety net Nurali had been before, only difference is she was better at it.

_So if I stay, would I be doing him a disservice? Would he be better off on his own to make his mistakes? Then again, he has a housecarl now to watch his back._

"So what'll it be, then?" I ask to myself, "Stay or leave?" A shuffling noise sounds from the entrance to my small cottage. I spin around in my chair just in time to watch as my door is kicked in with a loud thud.

* * *

**Markus **

"Anyway, so he tried to get me to stay in Windhelm but I came here instead." Brynjolf sits across from me at one of the many tables in this place, his eyebrows arched in surprise.

"You found yer father?" he asks in disbelief. I'd told Brynjolf about my lineage a while back when he'd come to check up on the Cyrodiil guild, long after Vex had gone back with him to Skyrim. He's the closest thing I have to a brother and one of the few I trust with my life.

I just nod and Brynjolf sighs and leans against the back of his chair. Lydia had taken Brynjolf up on his offer of a room a couple hours ago, probably because she got bored of hearing me go on about things she'd already been part of. "Are you goin' back and visitin' him then?"

I lean my head on my hand that rests on the table top, "Bryn, there's something else,"

His eyes widen, "What else could there possibly be, lad!? You're the Dragonborn, you're a thane, you found your father; it all sounds like enough to me!"

I shake my head slightly, "There's more, and you won't like it." I look over to the statue of Nocturnal and then back to Brynjolf.

He sighs, "Out with it then, what is it?"

"Mephala-the daedric prince that is- has been….talking to me, following me, I guess, she told me my future, even." I look to see his face is straight, he says nothing though.

After a moment he bursts out in laughter, "Now you're just fuckin' with me!" He slams his fist down on the table as he laughs, and I lean back in my chair as I stare up at the high dome ceiling, "Trying to say that Mephala is your little fortune teller-"

"I'm dying." I say bluntly, his laughter stops, leaving only the echo of it to ring through the space. I look to him and find his smile is gone, a disbelieving look in his eyes. His eyes look over me, trying to find a reason as to why I'd die, "Not currently," I say flatly, "but I will."

"Did she tell you that? Markus, daedric princes lie, this could be a trick-"

I shake my head, "I saw it, I felt it," I remember the dream I'd had, the feeling that I couldn't breathe, the pain…. "it's real." Brynjolf's dark blue eyes glaze over as I speak, "She's told me I'm going to die, and she wants me to give her the dragon souls I've…..collected, I guess, when I die."

"You didn't give them to her, did you?" He asks in an urgent tone.

I shake my head, "Of course not, but when I told her no she was pissed, and then….well, Nocturnal told me to come here."

"I'm still waiting for you to tell me you're just screwin' around."

"Well, you're not likely to ever hear that since I'm not. Nocturnal told me to come here and wait here until, but I'm still not really sure why. But, here I am."

Brynjolf rubs the back of his neck as he lets out a long breath, "So that's it then? You're going to die an' there's no savin' ya is that it?" Brynjolf's accent always gets thicker when he's upset or something's bothering him, I've always thought it was kind of funny since when he gets pissed it's nearly impossible to understand him.

But nothing right now seems funny as the man I consider my brother sits across from me, speaking about my death. I just nod and we both sit in silence for a few moments before he chuckles lightly, "I always thought you'd go cause of some disease you picked up plowin' girls in a brothel somewhere," I look at him for a moment before laughing, he's always known me just a little too well, I take a breath to stop from laughing as he adds, "and I always thought I'd go before ya', I am much older, after all,"

"Only by seven years, that's hardly **much** older." He gives a crooked grin.

"That's seven years of drinking and plowin' you'll not get." I laugh at that, and raise up my mug of mead.

"Then I best be getting started, eh?" I mimic his accent and he raises his own mug and hits it against mine. We both take a drink of mead before he speaks again.

"So that's it, then? You'll just make the best of what time you have left?" He smiles and I nod.

"Not much else to be done, is there?" He gives a curt nod and looks back to his mead, "but before I start, I think I'll sleep awhile."

"Markus, I'm sorry we've no more beds-"

"It's perfectly fine, that gives me some time to do some plowing, hmm?" I give Brynjolf a pat on the shoulder as he mumbles under his breath.

"Soddin' bastard." I let out a chuckle as I head back to the bridge.

"Markus! What should I tell your lass when she wakes?" I smirk.

"Tell her I'm at the local inn." I say without turning back.

"That'd be the Bee and Barb," I turn around and spread my arms open.

"Then that's where I'll be!" I say as I give him a mocking bow.

"Oh get outta here ya soddin' bastard!" I look up as he throws his empty mug at me, I sidestep and it shatters against the floor where I had just stood. I take off across the bridge and turn to call back.

"You already said that!"

"And I'll say it till the day ya' die!" I laugh as I make my way back through the tunnels we'd come in from. His words turn from funny to sour as they linger in my mind, and I push them from my thoughts.

I find my way to the surface fast enough, I've always been pretty good at finding my way through places I've been before, I say it's cause of my elven blood, gives me a good sense of direction. Then again, I get lost more often than not, so that all might be crap.

I step out of the shack-like building in the graveyard and find that the sun is beginning to set, casting golden orange rays over the town. I find my way out of the graveyard and onto the streets, which are scattered with people.

I walk to the center of the town, where a large building stands with a sign reading, 'The Bee and Barb', I head towards it and almost brush open the door when a voice speaks from the shadows to the side of the inn. "Lookin' for a bit of fun, are ya?" A sultry voice purrs.

I turn to see a tall brown haired woman with tan skin peeking around the corner. Her lips are curved into a mischievous smile and her eyes seem to glow in the sun. In fact, they seem to flash when the sun shines into them.

* * *

**Mephala **

Markus just stands there staring like a fool. Such a pretty little fool though. "I might be," he says as he takes a few steps forward and leans against the inn's wall.

My smile widens, "Then I think I have what you're lookin' for."

* * *

**Lydia **

I make my way back to the tavern from my room, following along the dusty, dirty stone floors that are lined with cobwebs. As I step into the high-ceilinged room my eyes burn from the sudden supply of light. I squint and rub my heavy eyes with my plated glove.

I hadn't been able to fall asleep in the room, something just felt wrong, though I couldn't put my finger on just what it was. My entire body aches for want of sleep, especially my head.

My eyes slowly adjust to the light and I can make out only one form sitting at the table where two had been when I'd retired, "Aye, lass, you're awake!" Brynjolf's accented voice calls.

I stand just a few steps from the doorway, my eyes search through the large room for Markus, "Where is he, Brynjolf?"

"You just missed 'im, he left for the Bee and Barb just a few minutes ago." I nod my thanks and take a few steps towards the bridge, "You're welcome to stay here, lass, there's no need for you to pay for a bed at the inn when one is free here."

Anger stirs in me, "It's my job to protect him, which means I go where he goes." I say with finality. I practically march my way across the bridge. It's probably just the lack of sleep making me bitter and moody, but something isn't right.

I need to find Markus, I need to make sure he's alright. I wind through the passages in a flurry, paying no mind to where I'm going.

_Do these passages ever end!? _

My stomach churns uneasily, I've never felt dread like this, there's no reason for it either, he's safe, he's safe within the city walls, there's no reason to worry.

I finally find my way to the secret entrance we'd come in through and cut through the graveyard to find myself on the main streets. The sun hangs dangerously low on the horizon, threatening to drop us all into darkness any moment.

I practically sprint through the streets, the plates on my armor scrape against each other as I run, drawing attention of the few people who remain. But I pay them no mind, I just need to find Markus, then this horrible feeling will go away, and I'll be able to sleep. Then everything will be alright.

I turn a corner and see a sign identifying the building as the Bee and Barb.

* * *

**Mephala **

My back hits the bed and in a moment his body is over mine, caging me against the bed. His lips practically crush themselves into mine, my nails dig into the back of his armor as his lips begin trailing hot kisses down my neck. I smile and reach for his belt, but his hands catch mine and pin them above my head as he sucks at my neck. I thought he'd be smarter than this, but as I said before, he and his father always did like their whores.

My grin widens as he shifts both my wrists into one of his palms, leaving the other free to trail down my body. His hand slides down my left side, over my thigh and ever closer to my core. I can feel my fangs tabbing at my lips, wanting nothing more than to stick themselves deep into his skin and be done with it.

I have to remind myself that there's much more to the game now than there was before, killing him just won't do. Especially here in Riften, in Nocturnal's precious little city of rats and thieves.

But of course this….this mortal **ritual**, I suppose they'd call it, just won't do either. But I'll wait, I'll wait till he releases my hands first….

The scraping of metal against a holster breaks my thoughts, and before I know it, a blade is held fast to my throat.

* * *

**Markus **

Her eyes flash with surprise as they look toward my knife, but the shock melts into the same, wicked grin. "Well played." She says in a satisfied purr. "Tell me, what gave me away?"

"Your eyes **always** give you up" She sighs.

"They are becoming a problem, aren't they?" she tries to shift under me, I hold my knife all the more closely to her neck, she gives a small laugh, "You don't really believe that will kill me, do you?"

"Why are you here?" I say flatly.

"I thought I'd check up on my little Dragon-"

"The answer is no." I cut her off, her eyes hold anger within them, but her smile speaks nothing but contentment.

"I heard you the first time." Her voice growls, suddenly, her attention drifts from me, her eyes point towards the door, "We have a guest." She says in an excited hum.

I look towards the door as its swung open, revealing an unsettled looking Lydia. A slight shifting below me catches my attention as an unfamiliar voice moans beneath me, "Don't stop," my head snaps down to see a dark skinned, bearded man staring up at me. My eyes go wide; I look back to Lydia to see her staring in horror between me and the man.

I look back, half in disbelief, half in anger at the situation, "Oh shit," I look back to Lydia to see her turning back in a quick whirl, "no, Lyd, wait!" I call, just as the door is slammed shut.

Mephala shifts again beneath me, I turn back to see the brunette woman from before laughing hysterically. "Fuck you!" I shout down at her.

She moves her hips against mine, "Oh, I know you want to," her eyes flash into the gold ones I've seen far too often, "but tell me Markus, does today seem like a good day to die?" she smiles, but hideous fangs shoot out from her top row of teeth, fangs that look like they belong on a spider.

She launches herself forward, paying no mind to the knife at her throat, her fangs outstretch towards me, searching for something to bite. I land a deep cut into her neck, but she barely flinches, I fall off the bed trying to jump back from the fangs.

Her laughter fills the room; I push myself off the floor and draw my daggers into my hands, waiting for her to attack. I look to see her standing, fangs still exposed, just staring at me, a slim finger raised in the air, as if telling me to wait, her head turns to the side, like she's listening carefully, "Oh," she says sloppily, her fangs preventing her from speaking clearly, "I suppose your Uncle already knows the answer to that question."

She laughs, a sloppy, painful sounding laugh. She snaps her fingers and suddenly, she's gone, faded into a grey portal, leaving me on my own.

With her gone, her words ring through my ears.

_"I suppose your Uncle already knows the answer to that question." _

"No." I say, realizing what she meant. I slip my daggers back into their sheaths as I turn, swing the door open, bound down the stairs and out of the inn in less than a minute. Outside I frantically scan the streets for Lydia.

I see the glimmer of her armor in the bright moonlight and race towards her. She must've heard my footsteps, she turns around, a look of shock still on her face, but I've no time to explain what happened, "Lyd," I say as I grab her gauntlet, "we have to go, **now**."

Her deep blue eyes ask a million questions, "**Now.**" I say again, this time she just nods her head and follows me as I sprint to the front gates of the city and then to the stables.

* * *

"Will you tell me where we're going now, my thane?" Lydia calls to me as our horses run back along the trails that had brought us here. I look over to her, her bright blue eyes plead for an answer.

"To my Uncle's." Is all I can manage to say, I look back to see her not fully satisfied with that answer, I wouldn't be either, but now is not the time to tell her of Mephala, or of Nocturnal. Now is just not the time.

"Is everything alright?" She asks, concern clouding her voice. "Is **he** alright?"

I turn to stare at the road ahead of us, rocks clutter the path, trees cast shadows and hide the road from the moon's light, as if promising darkness waits ahead of us.

"Yeah," I say, my voice is gravelly, "yeah, he's fine." I say mostly to myself, I turn back to her, "Everything's fine."

_Or at least they will be. _

Her blue eyes search mine for more, but she nods and turns back to the road. We ride in silence for a good while, every once in a while she steals a questioning glance over to me. I can only imagine how I must look right now, despite my best efforts to hide it, worry must be plastered across my face.

My stomach churns with worry, my heads aches with worry, everything is worry and panic. Lydia must sense this since she changes the course of my thoughts. "So, what….what happened back there?"

My head snaps back to her, and for a moment Mephala's fangs is all I see as they try to reach me… But Lydia speaks again, "With that man?"

"Oh," I clear my throat, "about that,"

_Now is not the time for this….."Oh, it wasn't what it looked like." "Oh, I could've sworn he was a woman a moment ago." "Funny thing, that was Mephala the daedric prince fucking around with me." _

Luckily, before I can speak, Lydia continues with a cautious voice, "My thane, you're not…." She trails off, giving a little nod forward with her head as if that movement would finish her sentence.

"I'm not wha-" I pause for a second, making sure I know what she's asking, but can't help but break out into laughter as she turns her face away in embarrassment. My lungs burn for air as Lydia's cheeks turn bright red. "You- you thou-thought," I wipe tears from my eyes, "Lyd, c'mon, you **know** I'm not."

Her face is still red, but she turns back to look at me, her blue eyes still holding some shame in them, "T-then what was that?" she motions back to Riften with a nod of her head. "I asked the innkeeper for your room, I walk in and you…..and him….and …what was that?" she asks again, her voice growing increasingly nervous.

I sigh, remembering what I was upset about in the first place. "That's…..difficult to explain…." She just stares back at me, waiting patiently for an answer I've no interest in telling right now. "Look, I'll tell you, I just…I want some time to think right now."

That's a lie; that's the farthest thing from the truth.

I want her to distract me, to pull me away from my thoughts, from my worries, she's always been good at that.

But she just nods and quickly looks away and we ride in silence again, dreaded silence. I slide my gloves off and slip them into my pouch, I adjust the still unstrung bow on my horse's saddle, I knead the reins in my hands, I do anything to keep my hands busy.

We're both exhausted, I can't remember the last time we'd gotten a full night's sleep, sure seems like a long time ago. But there's no stopping, not with that bitch's words hissing in my head, not with the feeling of her fangs still seemingly so close to my neck.

Not with my Uncle….

I squeeze my eyes shut.

_No. Everything's fine, she's just fucking with me again._

Suddenly my mind traces back to Brynjolf and Vex, it wasn't a good idea to leave without telling them, this was a mistake, what if she's after them? What if this is a trap?

I run my hand through my hair, my head aches, my stomach churns, and hope seems to drain as we ride on.

* * *

**Hours later…..**

**Lydia **

The sun rises slowly, washing its reddish gold light over the treetops as we ride along a familiar path. My eyes burn for want of rest, but Markus must have had a good reason for wanting to see his uncle so suddenly; perhaps he'd received another 'invitation'.

Our horses climb the path to Terran's house with ease, yet something in the forest is….wrong.

The sun is rising, yet no birds sing in the trees above, no foxes tread the forest ground, everything is still. I look to Markus to find him wearing a wary expression; he knows something's wrong same as I do. His jaw is set, and his muscles are tensed.

As we climb over the last hill, Terran's cabin comes into view. The door is open wide, nearly falling off the hinges, and the chimney gives off only the faintest bit of smoke. I look to Markus, only to find him no longer on his horse, but instead sprinting full speed to the cabin's door.

I quickly dismount and follow him, but I stop dead in the doorway as I take in the scene in front of me.

Markus sits on his knees in the center of the stone floor, in the middle of a pool of blood. Terran lays in his arms, his lifeless face staring up at Markus as he speaks in broken whimpers, tears begin to his lips shake and he speaks in another language.

Terran's entire front half is soaked in blood, blood that came from a deep slit in his throat. Markus brings his healing magic in his hand and desperately holds it to his uncle's neck as tears stream down his face.

I try to speak, to find the words to make him stop, but a lump in my throat keeps me silent. Markus repeatedly holds his hand to Terran's throat, trying to heal him, trying to bring him back.

I step forward and kneel beside him in the pool of blood, trying my best to hold back the tears threatening to spill over. The red liquid coats my armor, but I pay it no mind. Markus doesn't look up, he just keeps cupping his palm to his uncle's throat. I reach out and place my hand over his hand and feel the warmth from the healing magic. I gently brush my fingers over his knuckles.

He finally looks at me, and he begins to speak directly to me, though he still speaks in a foreign tongue. His gaze switches from me, back to his uncle repeatedly. His hand still clutches the tear in Terran's throat, though his magic flickers away. I reach up and gently run my fingers over Terran's eyelids, closing them for good.

* * *

**A Few Hours Later…**

**Lydia **

I watch as Markus stomps the shovel's blade into the grassy ground next to the grave he's been digging for the past couple of hours. I'd found the shovel in Terran's cabin, and I'd offered to dig the grave myself, but Markus just took the shovel from my grasp and then picked out a place for Terran's resting place.

Terran's body lies next to the hole, wrapped in sheets we'd found in his house. Markus had folded his arms over his chest in a way I'd never seen before; one hand draped just under the collarbone, the other clutching the lower part of the abdomen. I didn't question him, though, after Markus had stopped trying to bring his Uncle back, he hadn't said a word, in either language.

Tears still trickle down his cheeks every so often, though I know there's more where these come from, he's been trying to distract himself by digging, but distractions can only last so long. The grave is finished, and Markus jumps back down into the hole.

I walk over and help him slide Terran's body from the ground and into Markus's arms. He then gently lowers Terran to the ground and lays him down. He murmurs something to his Uncle, but I can't hear, and I'm not sure if I want to.

Markus pulls himself out of the grave and then begins to refill the grave.

With each wave of dirt, Terran disappears a little at a time.

_He'd been murdered, that much is clear. A cut to the throat, in his own home. But who held the blade? Who killed him? And for what?_

Markus tosses the last of the dirt on top of the grave and stares down at it, a tear falling to the patch of soil among the thick grass field.

After a moment he turns back towards me, "C'mon, Lyd," is all he says as he brushes by me. His voice is rough, and once again, I don't question him, I don't care where we go, I just don't want to be here. I can only imagine he feels the same way.

I've never seen him cry, let alone fall apart. My heart aches at the thought of him cradling Terran as he'd done, trying anything to bring him back. Somewhere deep inside, I don't think Markus ever grew up, maybe it's because his mother…or maybe that's not it at all, but I just wish I knew how to help him.

We mount our horses and turn away from the cabin, the sun begins to hang low in the sky as we ride off in search of a place to set camp.

* * *

**Markus **

I lean back against the thick fallen tree trunk and look up at the sky. The sun is setting, and night is rising quickly, leaving reds, oranges, yellows, and blues streaking across the horizon. I sit facing the overhang of a cliff, one that seems to be a hundred miles above the ground. I take a swig of the mead bottle in my hand and try to drown out the voices repeating over in my head.

_"Tell me, Markus, does today seem like a good day to die?" _

_ "Follow the nightingale, you'll find your way home. Luck in the shadows, Dovahkiin." _

_"I have been in war all my life, and sacrifices are necessary. You'll see in time; you can't save everyone, no matter how hard you try," _

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to clear my father's voice from my head.

But I can't.

Because he was right.

I open my eyes and throw the empty mead bottle over the cliff and watch through blurred vision as it falls below. Suddenly, Lydia is sitting beside me, I blame it on the mead for me not noticing her approach. She's wearing hide pants and boots, along with a plain blue shirt that makes her eyes stand out all the more.

* * *

**Lydia **

I lean against the trunk, same as Markus, and lay my legs out in front of me as I nervously pick at my nails. He's just been sitting here drinking mead for an hour now, tears still streak his face, though his eyes have been dry for a while. "You know," Markus says as he turns his head to face me, the smell of mead thick on his breath, "he used to tell me stories about his adventures when I was a kid," his voice is only partially slurred, "I used to dream I'd end up going on my own adventures." Markus lets out a bitter laugh.

He raises his arms, as if displaying Skyrim's wilderness beyond the cliff's edge, "And now look, I'm on my very own adventures." His head turns back to me, his green eyes gaze at my face and his smile slowly fades.

"My thane-" I begin.

"Shhh…" Markus says as his hand reaches up and holds my cheek, his forehead comes to rest against mine, and with closed eyes he speaks softly, "it's always 'my thane' this or 'my thane' that with you…" his breath rolls over my lips and I nearly feel drunk myself, "I'm Markus." He pauses as his thumb runs over my cheekbone, "or Varius," he opens his eyes, "or anything you want, really."

"My thane," I say, my gaze lingering on his lips.

"Wrong again." He says as he turns his head slightly, drawing his lips ever closer to mine, "Try again." His lips brush over mine ever so slightly, and I find myself paralyzed.

"Markus," I say in a mere whisper, my voice hitching a bit.

His lips wash over mine, pulling me into a slow, deep kiss. His mouth is soft and warm, and tastes like mead, his hand moves from my cheek to the back of my head, pulling me further into the kiss.

My head spins with need for air, for space, for a chance to think. I put my hands on his chest and gently pull back, finding my breathing shaky and uneven. His emerald eyes stare back in a half lustful, half confused stare. His hand still holds the back of my head, his fingers are tangled in my hair.

"You're drunk," I say abruptly, I try to steady my heart and my breathing, but both are quickened and uneven, "you don't need this right now." His fingers unwind themselves from my hair and his hand fall from my head.

"What do I need?" he asks as if it's a prayer.

"Rest." I answer too quickly. His eyes search mine, for what I'm not sure, but after a moment he leans back against the trunk once more and closes his eyes. The heat his nearness brought is gone, leaving me feeling all the more cold.

"We'll go back in the morning," he says with a saddened tone, "we have to go back." I stand and quickly walk to my tent and crawl inside, my head still spinning from the kiss.

_Did he kiss me purely because he's drunk, tired, and mourning? Will he even remember it tomorrow? _

Part of me wishes he will remember it, half of me screams at the notion. Either way, what's done is done. I lay back in my bedroll and quickly fall asleep, grateful for the time to rest before tomorrow comes.

* * *

_**Author's Note: Please let me know what you thought of this chapter, I'd really like to hear whatever you guys have to say! :) **_

_**There's a lot of details in here that will be cleared up in later chapters so never mind the technicalities for now! **_

_**I'd just like to say thank you all for everything, every time I update I get more follows, favs, and reviews and it's really crazy to see how big it's gotten. **_

_**Be sure to fill in that little box down there for me, eh? :)**_


	24. Liar, Liar pt 1

_**Author's Note: I am SO sorry everybody! This chapter took forever to write, the best excuse I can give is a profound case of writer's block :( One that could only be solved by going back to playing Skyrim for a while and just like that I found my inspiration :D Anyway the most annoying thing about this writer's block thing is it took me FOREVER to write anything, and this chapter is like one third the length of a normal one :/ **_

_**Anyway, I'm really sorry about the short-ness, but I felt like I really had to get something out soon, because I know when I'm reading a story, I get kind of impatient waiting for the updates so I just wanted to get something out, ya know? **_

_**WARNING: The ending of the chapter contains what I would consider a VERY frustrating cliff-hanger (sorry) if you're like me and just can't stand them, I'd just save reading this until I get next chapter out, which I am determined to do in a timely fashion. **_

_**Also, sorry for grammar errors, 3 A.M. writing ain't no good for my English.**_

_**Enjoy! **_

* * *

**Markus **

I open my eyes to burning sunlight barely peaking over the cliff in front of me. I squint and bring my hand up to block the sun, but in moving my shoulder, a huge, blaring pain stabs in my neck.

I gently sit up from my slouched position against the trunk, bringing my hand down to rub my neck as I realize I'd fallen asleep there last night after…..after…

_Oh shit. _

My hand comes up to slap my forehead, which only makes the throb in my head worse. I lean forward and roll my neck slowly, trying to work out the soreness, as well as what happened last night.

_I was just sitting here, drinking mead and then suddenly Lydia showed up and then I kissed her and….._

"Fuck,"

_I kissed her. _

_ "You're drunk; you don't need this right now." _

_ But did she kiss me back? _

My head aches all over, I squeeze my eyes shut trying to remember what happened after the kiss as I pull myself to my feet, but by the nine, if I wasn't drunk before the kiss, I sure as shit was after it. I remember….her lips tasted like…like… snowberries, only sweeter, and how it mixed with the taste of mead still on my tongue, and….and…

_Terran is dead. _

My head spins, and I feel my legs give out beneath me. My stomach churns uneasily as my knees hit the heavily packed dirt below me. His cold, empty eyes flash through my mind, and how he looked up and couldn't see me…

_"No, no, no, no! You're fine, I'll heal you; you'll be fine!" _

I was speaking in elven, I must've seemed crazy to Lyd….

_"You'll be fine, you'll be okay, just move, just move, please…" _

I look down at my palm to see the faintest tint of red left. I kept saying he'd be fine, even as cold blood dripped over my fingers. My stomach throbs uneasily as I remember the pool of the thick liquid around him, soaking his clothes and coating his skin.

I clamp my mouth shut as a sickening warmth fills my throat.

* * *

**Lydia **

I open my eyes to find sunlight filling my tent with golden light; I sit up and let out a short yawn, but stop dead as the sound of gagging hits my ears. "My thane!" I call out as I scramble out of my bed roll and push myself out of my tent.

Markus is hunched over the ground, both of his arms bracing against the ground as he empties the last of his stomach. His back is the only thing I can see, he took off his armor last top last night, leaving only a white cambric shirt on in its place.

He gives a final spit before bringing healing magic into his hand and spreading his palm across his forehead. "Fuck," he says after a moment, "of course it doesn't work on hangovers." He says as he drops his hand back to the ground and pushes himself up.

He just stands there a moment, looking out over the woodland beyond the cliff. The sun shines its golden rays across the maze of trees and hidden paths, as a cool breeze sends leaves gliding through the air. It's a beautiful morning.

Too beautiful.

Too beautiful of a morning after such a terrible day.

"My thane?" I ask hesitantly, he doesn't even flinch. I take a step closer, "Markus?" I ask louder. This time his head turns to the side, just enough to catch a glimpse of me. He turns back to the valley before us and gives a heavy sigh before finally turning to face me.

He looks older….tired… his normally bright green eyes are dark with sadness. "Are you alright?" his eyes seem to linger on my mouth, though it might just be my imagination…

He shakes his head and brings his hand up to rub one of his eyes. "Yeah," his voice is heavy and grating, he clears his throat and tries again, "yeah, I'm fine." He gives me one last look before walking past me, "We're both up, let's get moving."

I take one last look at the sunrise before sighing and turning back to pack up camp.

We ride slowly through the forest, I doubt Markus is eager to get back quickly. And why would he be? There's nothing there waiting for him, not anymore.

I ride alongside him, stealing glances at him every once in a while, wondering whether to say anything about last night or not. I want to know what he remembers; I want to know **if** he remembers.

I **need** to know.

I almost open my mouth to ask when I hear the sound of a cork being pulled of a bottle. I look over to see Markus wiping his mouth with his hand as he looks down at a purple bottle with a slightly disgusted face. He looks over to me as he sucks in a breath through his teeth, "Want some?" he asks as he motions the bottle towards me.

"What is that?" I ask harshly, I know full well what it is.

"I don't really know, a woman sold it to me when we were passing through a town a while back, said it takes the edge off." I force myself not to roll my eyes.

"It's Skooma, you can get addicted to it easily, and it'll leave you with an edge worse than you started with." He looks at me with a half-lidded stare, "Meaning," I continue, "it'll bring a hangover a hundred times worse than one from drinking mead."

"Well, shit." He says with a sigh before taking another swig of Skooma, "Too late now." The trees above cover us in shade, though small patches of sunlight shine through the leaves, leaving a design of sun on the road ahead of us like that of the stars in a night sky.

I wait for a few minutes, gathering my nerves before speaking, "We need to talk." I hesitate, not knowing how to go on.

"We are talking." He says quickly.

I look over to Markus, irritation beginning to rise in me. His eyes are locked on the road ahead of us, as if he doesn't look at me, I'll go away. "You kissed me." I say abruptly. His head turns quickly back to me, shock flashes in his eyes; he didn't think I'd bring it up.

His mouth straightens into an unreadable line, his eyes grow cold; all signs of emotion practically drain from his face.

"You were right," he says in a firm, even tone, "it wasn't what I needed," he pauses as his emerald eyes stare into mine, "I'm sorry if I….it won't happen again." I have to hold back a protest. His eyes are dark, as if there's more he wants to say, but he just turns back to the road ahead.

I look to the side, trying to hide the red of my cheeks and the tears that tease at my eyes. I hold them back, forcing myself to be calm as reason snaps in my head.

**_And this is just another reason to stay distant. Distance is protection, for you both. _**

We begin ascending the hill to the cabin; I avoid looking at Markus, instead focusing on the path and the trees around us. Suddenly, Markus dismounts and I halt my horse as he kneels to the ground and looks closely at the dirt.

* * *

**Markus **

_I remember this footprint. _

This has to be the Skooma making me see things….this….this can't be. "What? What is it?" Lydia asks in a flat tone.

The point at the toe of the print…the markings on the heel…

"Thalmor." I say, still not believing it completely. I remember them from Valenwood.

* * *

_The embers still pop all around me, the heat rising off the tree stump in front of me, a drop of sweat rolls down my cheek. I keep my head down, if I keep it down, I won't see… I won't look, I won't see…_

_ "NURALI!" I squeeze my eyes shut. _

_ He's not real. It's just my mind playing a trick on me again. He's not real. _

_ "VARIUS!" I force myself to look up, but I twist my neck to the left, refusing to look across from me. Sunlight pours in from the new hole in the canopy above where leaves had once been before the flames had consumed them. _

_ The sound of footsteps running frantically through charred leaves draws closer and closer as the voice calls again, "NURALI!" I open my mouth, and try to call out to the voice, but only a heave escapes my throat. _

_ My eyes are swollen almost completely shut and it hurts to open them fully, my ear throbs from when the Thalmor officer took a knife to it, and the chains seem to squeeze the breath out of me. I can't feel my arms anymore, the chains cut off all the blood to them hours ago. All I can feel is the heat from the charred remains of the forest and the warmth of bruises forming everywhere. _

_ I try to clear my throat, and try calling out to my uncle again, again nothing comes out. My lungs are tight from the smoke…..so much smoke I couldn't breathe… _

_ My ribs ache from the constant pressure of the chains pinning me tightly against the tree. I try one more time to call out, but my throat is full of soot, only a cough comes out. _

_ I can't speak. _

_ I can't move. _

_ I can't breathe. _

_ Suddenly, the footsteps come racing toward me, he must've heard me coughing, "Nurali?!" uncle Terran asks as his figure comes into view from behind the trees. He stands there, whirling around in search, I try to speak again, I try to shuffle my feet to make noise, but I can't feel them either. _

_ I force my leg forward just enough to crunch a torched leaf. My uncle turns and catches sight of me, "Varius!" he says as he sprints to me. He comes to kneel in front of me, his hands desperately searching for a weak spot in the chains. "What happened?" he asks as he stops to look at my swollen eyes, "Where's your mother?" _

_ Over his shoulder, I see the charred remains of the tree's trunk, along with the chains that held my mother…..but now only hold a skeleton, charred and brittle. _

_ Two black empty sockets stare across at me, and her jaw is open in a never ending scream…even now I can hear her. _

_ My vision goes blurry; I can taste salty tears as I try to breathe through my mouth. My uncle follows my stare and turns to see her…. _

_ I squeeze my eyes shut, tears stream down my face. I break down as my uncle's voice continues to speak, but I can't hear him, everything just goes black. _

_ I open my eyes to find myself on the front of a horse, with my uncle's chest against my back to hold me up. I can finally breathe, though I can still feel the tightness of the chains as if they're still on. "It's okay Varius, you can rest if you like." His voice is cold and hollow, not from hostility but…..emptiness. _

_ I try to hold myself up on the horse as it follows one of the few clear paths through the forest, but my legs are still numb, and my whole body feels weak. I hunch over the horse's neck, and stare at the path below as we go on. _

_ Footprints in the dark soil catch my eye. _

_ Footprints outlined in ashes and soot. _

* * *

**Lydia **

"Markus?" I ask, my voice wavering slightly. He just sits there, staring down at the print, his brows pushed together in concentration, his emerald eyes lost in thought.

He doesn't respond, but after a few moments he walks back to his horse. Though instead of mounting, he just takes hold of the reins and leads it toward the cabin, keeping his gaze glued to the path all the way. I follow him at a distance, not wanting to break his focus, but also so I won't have to see that cold gaze in his eyes that he'd given me this morning.

_"You were right; it wasn't what I needed,"_

He basically declared he didn't want me.

Just like that.

A deep, queasy feeling overtakes me, as well as a sinking sensation in my heart. As he reaches the cabin, Markus lets the reins go and once again, squats as he stares intently at the prints that lead to the door. Though our tracks have partially hidden the Thalmor's footprints directly in front of the door, there's no question that's exactly where they were headed.

I dismount, but stay a few feet away from Markus as he reaches out to the soil and brushes it lightly with his fingertips. I look away from him, hoping for a distraction so I won't have to listen to his voice play over in my head.

My eyes drift to the fresh grave across the way from us. I close my eyes and sigh.

"Stay here," Markus finally says as he rises, his black armor only makes the dark rings under his eyes seem that much more….well, **dark**. He begins walking to the tree line, his eyes still locked on the ground with concentration.

"Where are you going?" I call after him, though he doesn't turn back.

"Just stay there!" he yells back, frustration clear in his voice. The roughness of his voice only makes the sinking feeling in my heart worse.

* * *

**Markus **

The tall grass shows that something passed through the forest floor recently, either something big like an elk, or multiple things…..like people, all following in a line. I push the tall grass out of the way and look on the shorter grass below, where indents of boots scatter the ground.

I stand up and grab a low branch on the tree next to me, I climb until I can see the forest floor almost completely. A trail of plants that have been either bent or rustled leads to the cabin. I can't make out the boot imprints in the grass; the indent doesn't take well enough.

But why would a single Thalmor follow the dirt trail, while the others took through the forest?

It just doesn't make sense. The Thalmor would have stuck together, or split up evenly, that's how it works with them; order is always the top priority. Not only winning, winning with 'dignity'.

And yet, here it is, right in front of me.

Something isn't right.

"Last chance," a woman's voice rings through the tree tops. I scan the limbs looking for her as I reach down and pull out one of my daggers, "just give me a 'yes' and this doesn't have to get any worse."

I quickly turn around on the limb I'm perched on and spot her. Rose's face stares at me from a tree across from mine, though it's Mephala's eyes that are watching, and it's her fangs that hang just barely inside her mouth.

_It's just the Skooma. It's just the Skooma. _

_She's not here. _

I rub my eyes, trying to make her disappear, but she just stares at me, a look of rage both on her face…and in her eyes.

"Well, then," she says as her face begins to change, as well as her body. She grows taller, her skin becoming a deep tan, her chin dropping lower, and her ears turning pointed.

_Terran…_

A wicked grin crosses his face, the one Mephala always wears. I just sit there, staring at him for a moment, anger flares through me, the thought of her disgracing him by mimicking him…by wearing his skin as she does with everyone else…

"You won't want to miss this." His faces snaps to the way I'd come.

Back to the cabin.

Back to Lydia.

And in an instant he's gone.

"Lydia," I whisper to myself. I turn and jump straight off the tree, I land in a roll and take off towards the tree line, but it seems like forever away, "LYD!"

* * *

**Lydia **

With Markus gone, I look around the property, not walking, just looking. But my eyes just keep falling back on the grave. I sigh and walk to the far right of the yard, toward a large bed of mountain flowers. The breeze blows them softly to the side, sending small waves of petals blowing along across the yard.

I take a deep breath, trying to make the sinking feeling stop. I wish it would just **stop**. He doesn't want me, that's fine. There's no point in being upset about it….there's nothing between us anyway.

"HELP ME!" A scream breaks the silence. I spin around on my heel, my eyes raking the yard for the source of the scream, but there's nothing. "HELP! SOMEONE!" I draw my sword and shield, realizing the scream is coming from the cabin.

And the scream….the **voice**….

Is Terran's.

I try to peek into the cabin -while keeping my distance- through the shutters, but there's nothing but pure darkness inside, as if no light shines inside at all. I walk slowly around to the front, where the door sits leaned up against the side of the frame. The screams aren't intelligible any more, there's no words being said, it's just….moans….full of pain and….and…gurgling…as if he's drowning in his own blood.

_But…he's __**dead**__. How can this be…?_

My stomach churns, no light exists inside the cabin at all, only pitch black shadow. I take one step forward; my shield rests above my shoulder, braced for an attack, my sword remains pointed forward, ready to strike.

Then suddenly, in the very back corner of the room, two blazing gold orbs appear, along with a long, deep hiss.

"LYD!"

"Markus," I say as if his name is a prayer, my voice is shaking uncontrollably. My lip quivers in fear as another hiss sounds and the gold orbs lung toward me.

* * *

**Markus **

I make it to the tree line, and sprint up the hill and into the yard, my dagger still clutched in my hand. I bring fire into my left palm, "LYDIA!" my voice echoes through the forest.

_She's not here, oh fuck, no, no, no, no, she's not here. _

"LYD! WHERE ARE YOU!?" the only response is my own voice echoing back to me.

The faintest smudge of red catches my eye on the door frame of the cabin, I almost miss it, but I turn back and realize there was no smudge on the door earlier.

My heart skips a beat and I swallow hard at thought of what might be inside…

"Please, Lyd…." I whisper as I make my way into the cabin. Shadows cover the back of the cabin, making it impossible to see. But the air is still, and after several frantic heartbeats, there's nothing here. No Lydia, no Mephala.

I send out flames to the fireplace, within a moment, the fire illuminates the darkness, and I realize there's something written on the floor boards.

Something written in blood.

_Darkmouth Cave_

_ Alone_

* * *

**_Author's Note: Alright so this chapter is entitled 'Liar Liar pt 1' for a reason, I'm just gonna kind of couple this chapter with the next one since Markus is kind of being a liar... I mean pfffttt he so does want Lydia ^_^ _**

**_You guys can expect some really cute scenes with them together coming up maybe in the next couple chapters, I've got it all planned, and in my opinion it's really cute. Now all I have to do is conquer this writer's block for good -_- Wish me luck... _**

**_Lastly, THANK YOU! _**

**_This story hit 90+ follows and I'm still shocked about it, it's kind of funny to think about..._**

**_When I first started this, readers thought Markus was an asshole, so I have a quick question..._**

**_Compared to your first impression of Markus, how has he changed in your eyes? _**

**_Now obviously you don't have to answer I just thought it's be a neat little thought ^_^_**

**_Have a great day everyone, and thanks again for all the support!_**


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